Lust Potion
by Shallowdreamer
Summary: Hermione harbors unrequited feelings for Harry and takes matters into her own hands. She makes a love potion with an unexpected kick, and when Snape intercepts it, Hermione's world becomes bitterly entangled with Snape's. Now it's up to the two of them to find an antidote before the potion takes over Snape's mind and drives him to regrettable action. But someone is interfering.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione was approaching the end of adolescence. At sixteen, her feelings were overwhelming, confusing, and downright shocking. Even though she knew it would change the dynamic of the group drastically, She couldn't help her eyes wandering over to Harry every chance she had. He was growing taller, his shoulders broader, his hair fuller, his skin scruffier. His baby face was beginning to thin and sharpen, and his eyes were deep and inviting.

She remembered when she'd first taken notice that he was becoming a man. The way her body had reacted stunned her. She felt prickles across her skin, a strange feeling filling her lower belly, and an unmistakeable zing in unexpected places. She knew Harry didn't feel that way about her, and a miserable pit settled in her stomach.

She'd been unwilling to accept it, and she'd gone to the first place she could think to go to distract herself, the library. It was with her nose buried in the potions book she'd never returned that she found it. A love potion that was so potent, just one sip would have the recipient bowing at her feet kissing her shoes. This particular potion differed from others in that its effects were subtle to the eyes of all but the object of adoration. Additionally, Its effects were long-lasting and incredibly difficult to reverse.

She hunched looking around nervously to make sure no one was looking at her. The love potion was forbidden, punishable surely by expulsion - possibly a harsher sentence. Even so, she memorized the ingredients on the page slipping the book back into her bag slickly. Of course she had no real intentions of using it. Of course she couldn't break the law, she just couldn't.

So why she found herself in Hogsmeade, cutting classes to take the unauthorized trip, was beyond her comprehension. Her hands trembled as she made her purchases, her eyes darting around nervously. She was sure McGonagall or Snape would walk in any minute and demand to know why she was here. Even the clerk looked at her suspiciously as he handed her her bags - but maybe she imagined that.

"I must be out of my mind." She mumbled to herself as she tucked her ingredients safely into the folds of her robe. Assembling the forbidden potion in potions class seemed the dumbest thing she could possibly do. The risk of getting caught wasn't worth the result. But she could hardly risk skulking around making a potion outside of class, even in Moaning Myrtle's mostly empty bathroom.

Harry wasn't dumb either. She wouldn't be able to fool him if she gave him a potion outside of class that radically changed his feelings. Making it in class would almost guarantee him tasting it without suspicion. It was devious. It was dastardly. It was so unlike her to even think of such things. Her desire for Harry was out of control.

"Hello Harry." She greeted shakily taking her seat beside him in potions class. Ron and Harry both stared at her with quizzical looks. "What's with you?" Ron asked. She must look more antsy than usual. "I was up all night studying." She answered making an effort to calm down. Snape started class, flicking his wand toward the blackboard where instructions appeared. Hermione fidgeted impatiently.

Once they began making today's potion, she acted as though she were putting the prescribed ingredients in the cauldron, but she dumped the "special" ingredients without a hitch. As she stirred the pot, her heart leapt with excitement. This could truly work, and Harry may be hers within minutes. She eyed her classmates' pots to make sure her potion was the exact same color and consistency.

Of course it wasn't - hers was silky and creamy white while others had a gloopy purple concoction. No matter. She charmed the cauldron before class to make the potion appear as today's potion. How long was she supposed to stir it again? With the flick of her hand, she gazed at the folded paper she'd ripped out of the book just in case she needed to consult it.

Stir for 10 minutes. Good. As she looked at the crusty old page, she noticed the slightest shimmer around the word "love". Charmed. She frowned peeling at the word. The letters spelling love lifted from the page with a wisp, revealing a clear word beneath it. _Lust_. _Lust potion_. Her shoulders seized, and she let her head fall into her hand exasperated. All that work, money, and risk for someone's practical joke. She certainly couldn't give Harry the _lust_ potion. That was where she drew the line.

She was hastily trying to pour the potion into a charmed pocket in her robe when Snape cleared his throat loudly. "Time's up! Present your potions. That includes you, Miss Granger." He said staring her down. She froze midway through pouring the potion out. She wiped the side of the messy cauldron with her robe before placing it back on the table. Harry was also staring at her, glancing over at her half empty cauldron curiously.

"I think it's about time for a pop quiz. Since you lot aren't keen on listening to my lectures, you must all have made the potion perfectly. Is that right?" His gaze swept across the room, and everyone hunched nervously. The color drained from Hermione's face. She had a terrible feeling that this would be the time he called on her.

"Let me see here."

No.

"Who among you is the most overly sure of himself?"

No!

"Or _herself_?"

Oh GOD no!

His eyes flickered to Hermione, and his eyes pierced through her already fragile facade.

"Miss Granger, bring your potion up here." Said Snape with a snide smile. It was as if he could smell the waves of fear and feasted on it. Hermione turned to stone in her seat feeling her stomach drop to the floor. What on earth was she going to do? This was really going to happen and in front of the whole class! How could she explain it away? When she didn't move, he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Come up. Don't make me tell you again." He said. The stone feeling in her limbs shattered, and she jumped anxiously. "U-um, professor, I can't. I'm actually not sure of this at all! I-I think I may have accidentally added something poisonous to the potion, and -"

"I'm touched by your concern for my wellbeing." He said in cold amusement. "But I assure you, as an experienced potions master, I've consumed my share of dismally botched potions from less than capable wizards. I have antidotes at the ready to cure just about any poison you could make. That said, if you've faltered in your process, come up and face your failure." He grinned smugly. "But, sir, I-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

"BUT - "

"Want to make it twenty?" She slumped in defeat. As she stood shakily, she had one last idea. Her arm bumped the cauldron, and it fell to the ground with a heavy, clunky thud. Some of the potion sloshed onto the floor, but as she suspected, the cauldron remained in tact. The class laughed quietly, and Snape closed his eyes trying to control his temper. She shuffled to the front, her stomach doing flips. She briefly wondered if puking would distract him long enough to dump the potion. Doubtful.

Snape pried the cauldron out of her locked fingers and stirred the potion suspiciously. He didn't comment on the vastly different appearance of the potion, so the charm was doing its job. He raised a spoonful to his nose sniffing it before sipping the contents. He grimaced at the taste for a moment before his eyes widened, pupils dilating. Uh Oh.

He was staring intently at Hermione with a softened expression on his face. His skin looked a few shades pinker than usual. His firm guard had slipped away, and there was a vulnerability there she really didn't like. The class was silently watching ready for the spectacle they heartily expected. As if noticing them for the first time, he shook his head snapping out of it with great difficulty.

"That's all for today. Class dismissed." His tone whipped loudly and startled the class. Although they looked disappointed (especially the Slytherins), they didn't dare lollygag with Snape in this mood. Hermione darted away, but Snape reached out and grabbed her wrist firmly. He flinched at the contact, his guard slipping again. She felt his long, bony fingers curl delicately around her skin.

"Not you. You stay." He said closing his eyes as if concentrating hard. Harry and Ron noticed this with interest, but with confused looks, they filed out with the rest of the class. Snape snatched his hand back as if her skin had burned him. He waited with his hands gripping his desk tightly while the classroom emptied. Without warning, the door to the exit swung shut and locked audibly. With a gulp, the trembling Hermione faced her professor, who had a disturbingly hungry look in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione watched Snape cautiously keeping her distance. Being alone with him in a locked classroom with the lust potion in his system seemed like a really bad idea. His eyes bored into her, flicking down the length of her body every so often but focusing on her face. His chest heaved, and he turned away from her raking his hands through his dark, oily hair.

"What. Was in. That. Potion." He asked through clenched teeth.

She didn't answer him having lost her voice. She had no idea what to say, and her brain was working too slowly to come up with a convincing story. She was surely minutes from expulsion, and that was if he didn't turn her in to the Ministry of Magic. He spun around, furious that she had not answered his question. "What did you do to me? Answer me, dammit!" He yelled, and she jumped, backing up a few steps.

"I-I tried to tell you! I messed it up. I'm sorry-"

"Do I look as though I was born yesterday? I know exactly what potion you made, and it was no accident. Lust potion is strictly forbidden. You've committed a crime. When I tell the headmaster, not only will you regret making that potion, you'll regret that you ever came to Hogwarts!" His scowl wrinkled his face and made him look much older than he was.

His words injected icy fear inside of the twitchy girl before him. Her eyes seemed to instantly well with tears. "Professor Snape, please, it really was an accident! I never meant for anyone to actually drink it, least of all you!" She shook her head pitifully. The temptation to spill the truth of her intentions arose, but she bit it back firmly. Surely it would do no good to mention that she only wanted Harry to fall in love and go on a few dates with her, maybe snog her. It didn't make it any less illegal or wrong.

Snape moved about the classroom with a hustled grace as he flipped through items on his desk and in the drawers. Hermione's heart hopped into her throat as she awaited the bad news from the angry man. Though she longed to fall through the floor and never speak again, the lack of communication was too much for her to bare. "Professor-"

At the interruption, he drew himself up and gave her his full attention. Though his countenance was stern and all business, the twist at the corners of his mouth gave him a demented sort of look. He was clearly enjoying her misery, her humiliation, eager to personally oversee her expulsion. All of Hermione's future prospects, accomplishments, hard work, and bitter obstacles overcome flashed before her eyes. He started for the door to his office. "Come along, Miss Granger. I think we'll floo Professor Dumbledore in for the occasion."

"No!" She couldn't hide her desperation. "Please don't do this!"

She'd taken too many steps forward, gotten too close to him, and the hardened look on his face melted away as he looked her up and down. He was fighting his own mind intensely. The beginnings of a sweaty sheen across his face glinted in the soft light. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip forcefully.

"Perhaps," He swallowed. "The better course is to send you off to your other classes. Once I've spoken with Dumbledore, someone will come and get you. Yes, that's what we'll do. Now go on." He nodded at the door.

She made no move to leave, frowning at a loss. "No."

He narrowed his eyes dangerously at her disobedience. "Away with you, _now_." He flicked his finger at her threateningly.

She folded her arms over her chest, not at all sure of herself. But the wheels in her mind turned, and inspiration ignited. "I'm sorry, professor, but I'm not leaving."

"Get out of my sight!" He shouted, but Hermione stood firm.

As much as she longed to disappear and never see him again, he'd threatened her. Her future resided in the palm of his hand, and she was ready to put up a fight.

"Not until we reach an agreement." Her voice was somehow calm, diplomatic

He scoffed at her arrogance and sheer nerve. "It's over for you, Miss Granger. Heed me when I say you'd do well to leave now. Get out." His eyes raked over her body as he spoke, and the conviction in his tone slipped away. In its place was a soft, sultry, almost teasing note. It was more unsettling than the shouting, but Hermione refused to waver.

"No. If you're going to get me into trouble, I've got you on the ropes too. How disgraceful is it that a teacher nearly in his forties under the spell of a lust potion is locked in a classroom alone with an underage girl? For all the public knows, you made the potion yourself and gave it to me to have your way with me. Who do you think they'll believe?" She spat at him.

The words felt heavy like cotton in her mouth. She couldn't be capable of such blatant blackmail, lies, and disrespect. Snape was near trembling with his fists clenched in fury. "Why you insolent, vindictive little hussy! You will _no_t speak to me like that. You shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you." He flashed his wand threateningly.

That gave Hermione an idea that should have been obvious. She whipped her own wand out and startled Snape. "Put it down. Don't make me disarm you. I'm warning you, It will not be pleasant -"

"_Evanesco_!" She shouted reaching around him to point at her half full cauldron. He launched himself at her, pinning her against the chalkboard with her wrists secured in his hands above her head. She grunted in pain struggling at his tight grasp. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't merely restraining her anymore. No, now he was pressed against her leaning his head against hers, fighting a losing battle.

His hair pooled against her cheeks and neck feathering a trail of goosebumps where it brushed. The scent of his hair, skin, and clothes was forced on her - not unpleasant but unwelcome. He smelled of smoke, herbs, soap, and fresh sweat.

His long fingernails were digging into her skin as he moved his body even closer completely surrounding her. His proximity stifled her breathing and built pressure in her chest. The feel of the flexing muscles in his arms and chest against her body frightened her. Her feeble attempt at movement was squandered by the tightening of his grip.

She was trapped, and he was so strong that she wouldn't be able to free herself if he decided to keep her. She couldn't even reach her wand. It occurred to her that she could be in real trouble, but somehow that wasn't the primary thought in her head. She was hyperventilating, her head swimming, her heart pounding. Maybe she had swallowed a little of the lust potion herself, because her body was responding to his in a way she never would've expected. She wasn't thinking about him being her teacher - a much older man - or the consequences of the situation.

He was dominating her entirely. He wanted her so badly that he was shaking trying to deny himself. She had never been wanted before, and the thought stirred an excitement within her. A small, rational part of her was screaming that this was so wrong, but it couldn't compete with the rush of sensation and pure adrenaline.

She could feel Snape's warm breath on her neck raising goosebumps. His lips finally brushed the feverish skin of her throat, pressing gently on the spot where her pulse thundered. From there, he trailed up the side of her cheek to her ear. He nipped it lightly between his warm lips, and a quiet moan escaped her.

The sound must have snapped him out of it. With a ragged gasp and a low grunt, he wrenched himself away and back several feet. His posture straightened rigidly, his face contorted in disgust. He tried to suppress it, but a shiver jostled his form before he could regain his composure. He was horrified. He wiped his hands on his robes like he'd been routing around in filth.

He turned abruptly toward his desk where Hermione's now empty cauldron resided, evidence free. It was pure luck she'd just learned the disappearing spell. He looked back at her with a wary frown. "You have to leave straight away. You were correct in your assessment that it is highly inappropriate for you to be around me right now. I have limited control of myself, and lust potion only gets stronger with time. I'll need to make the antidote as soon as possible." He pulled out his wand pointing at her. She recoiled anxiously.

"What are you doing with that?" She asked.

"Erasing your memory. I will not have the reputation I've worked to build annihilated over the actions of a foolish girl. Stay still." He said. She blanched and shrank back ready to duck. No way was she letting him alter her memory with the information he had on her. Right now, blackmail was her only saving grace, and she needed to be prepared to defend herself should the incident arise publicly.

"You don't have to do that. I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't. I swear." She said.

"I said stay still." He said gruffly. Clearly he'd had enough fooling around for one day.

"You don't want to do that. Right now I know exactly what happened to you, and I won't tell anyone. If you lose control around me again, and my memory is erased, there's no telling what I'd do."

Silence. Hermione waited patiently while Snape considered what she said, weighing his options. She watched him debate the issue internally until finally he sighed. "It doesn't appear as though I have much choice. Though if I find myself unable to control the... urge..." He winced and breathed deeply. Even talking about it seemed to strain his self-control. "I fear word getting around will be the least of our worries."

His face hardened into a mask of cold seriousness as he held her gaze. She gulped at the clear threat in his words. A significantly uncomfortable pause passed between them before he sighed again, annoyed.

"Just keep your mouth shut, Granger. If you can manage that until I restore my faculties, I'll forget this unfortunate incident, and you may consider yourself incredibly lucky." Snape said busying himself with a stack of dirty cauldrons on his desk. "Now go to class."

Hermione suppressed a joyous squeal at the relief that flooded into her. "Thank you, sir! My lips are sealed." She bowed slightly.

He rolled his eyes. "You're daft. We're not in the clear yet. Reserve your gratitude until I correct your blunder. Now, go. And for Merlin's sake, stay away from me." He said.

"I will." Without thinking, she reached across him to retrieve her cauldron. In a flash he was on her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him forcefully. The thrill rushed back clouding her thoughts before she could think to push him away. His forehead touched hers, his lips lingering an inch from hers. His tongue darted out and swiped her upper lip first, then the lower lip. As soon as he'd finished his slow trace of her mouth, he shoved her away. She stumbled over a desk barely remaining upright. She grimaced, scrubbing his saliva off with the sleeve of her robe.

"What did I _just_ say? Get _out_!" He said, and she fled not daring to push him further.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you all for reading and reviewing my story! It's very encouraging, and it inspires me to write more! I have some idea of where this story is going, but overall I'm following where the inspiration takes me. Hopefully it doesn't go off the rails, but sometimes you can't plan these things! Please continue to review and let me know what you think!

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"You wished to see me, Headmaster?"

Snape's steady baritone voice betrayed none of the unease he felt at his summoning.

The elder wizard smiled cheerily at the stone-faced man before him. This did nothing to settle Snape's mind. Dumbledore had always found something to smile about while delivering the worst news to him.

"Please, have a seat, Severus, and make yourself comfortable. Fancy a drink?" He didn't wait for an answer before two wine glasses floated to his desk. Snape sat rigidly in the chair across from him.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Said Snape not wishing to prolong the suspense.

Since the Granger girl had left his classroom, not only did his thoughts revolve centrally around her, but paranoia enveloped him. He'd imagined every instance in which the girl had opened her ginormous mouth, and he'd wound up implicated in view of the public or worse. The Ministry of Magic.

He was well aware of his status with the public. He was not favored. He'd heard many a rumor spread about him in his time at Hogwarts, all despicable and devoid of truth. A scandal of this kind would surely be readily accepted and spread to his detriment. The injustice and indignity of it all was enough to make him see red.

"Cut right to the chase, I see. Very well. How closely would you say you've been watching your house students lately?" Dumbledore asked. This was not the question he'd been expecting at all, and it took him off guard.

"I suppose about as closely as ever." He said. Amusement touched Dumbledore's eyes. "Care to elaborate? Have any of the Slytherin students been acting out of the ordinary? Or, perhaps, have any of them been particularly needy of late?"

"They're always needy." Snape resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. The most insufferable among them frequently presented themselves at his personal quarters at all hours of the night with the smallest inconveniences. They came whinging about petty disputes they expected him to resolve or demanding potions to relieve whatever symptoms they may experience, particularly the girls. They treated him as though he was at their disposal, an all night help desk, a service owed to them. It was undoubtedly the worst part of his position. "What's this about?"

"I've got a gut feeling, and I learned long ago not to ignore my intuition. There's a fissure somewhere. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I sense it's under your charge, Severus."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the man speculatively. "While I'll agree that your intuition is an asset, I'd very much like to know how you arrived at that conclusion."

"The Malfoy boy has been allowed to run amok." Dumbledore stated simply, no accusation or judgment in his voice. "And if you have to ask, therein lies the problem." The unbridled delectation on the old wizard's face gave him the appearance of senility, but Snape knew better. Somehow he was privy to most of the comings and goings at Hogwarts, even if he chose not to intervene.

"You overestimate my ability to follow your convoluted logic. What would you have me do?" Snape knew he was pushing the boundary of propriety in addressing his superior, but it had been an awfully long day, and he was losing his patience. He didn't wish to be tested or follow endless word puzzles, something he often suspected was thrust upon him for the man's own entertainment.

"Since I am wholly ignorant of the details of the issue and not as familiar with the customs of the Slytherin house, I will have you ask him yourself what disorder he has caused. The matter does fall under your jurisdiction, after all." Dumbledore sat back with his glass of wine, seeming to sip at the contents with great interest.

"I see. Do I get a hint as to what I should be looking for?" Snape said through clenched teeth. The boundary was crossed, and he was beyond pleasantries.

Dumbledore choked on his wine as he chuckled warmly at Snape's bitterness. "Dear Severus, you assume the worst of me! I assure you I haven't any more knowledge of the circumstances than you." His eyes flashed up and met Snape's with purpose. "I simply mean for you to use what you know to find the answer I'm searching for."

Snape stared at the floor, his full wine glass gripped firmly in his hand. He had the feeling that Dumbledore was referring to something more than just the Malfoy boy.

"I will talk to the boy." Snape said and immediately downed the wine, hoping to leave as soon as possible. He only received short breaks of mental clarity before the flood of thoughts of Hermione Granger returned. The frizzy, mousy mess atop her head had smelled sweet like lavender and was surprisingly soft to the touch. Based on appearance, he'd expected a straw-like texture, but with it fluffed up around her shoulders and tickling his face, it reminded him of airy cotton candy. His fingers itched to run through it, to press it back to his face and inhale deeply.

She smelled as beautiful as she looked with those big brown eyes, soft, creamy skin, and full, pink lips.

But the girl _wasn't _beautiful. She was half his age, and she certainly looked it. She was a baby-faced plain Jane if ever he saw one. Even if she'd appealed to him physically, nothing could be more off-putting than her snotty, bombastic, know-it-all way. What on earth was he thinking?

But she was so soft and warm with her delicate little frame pressed up against his body. Oh, how he wanted to feel that skin without the barrier of clothing between them. If the skin he'd already felt was deliciously warm, he shivered to imagine the heat radiating from in between her-

"Severus?"

Snape blinked, ignoring the flood of warmth in his cheeks. "Yes?"

"I was just admiring your new trousers." His playful smile was reserved as he regarded Snape, watching him intently. Snape was careful not to display the slightest reaction. From the moment he swallowed the lust potion, he was afflicted with an untamable erection. Not even the act of self-gratification had eased it for long. He experienced relief only when he wore the charmed, light gray trousers from his teenage years.

He'd struggled with the same issue, though for vastly different reasons, during his formative years at Hogwarts. He'd been ruthlessly teased about it until he was forced to seek aid. He remembered vividly the mortifying conversation with a sympathetic Madam Pomfrey, wherein the sulky, adolescent version of him stuttered the words 'it's my' until he finally said the word. The hospital wing was of no use for such things, so Dumbledore had had the trousers specially made for him and delivered them personally.

Snape was speechless. How the memory had escaped him when he changed clothes was beyond him, but judging by the knowing twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore's memory had no lapse. Just when he thought he could suffer no further indignities in the day, another one presents itself to steal his peace. If Dumbledore knew the reason for the return of the light gray trousers, he made no mention of it and mercifully kept his curiosity to himself.

Sensing he'd crossed a line and abashed the dour man, Dumbledore stood.

"I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time. Do let me know what you find out about our young Mr. Malfoy." He said dismissively. Without another word, Snape departed with thoughts of Hermione Granger already reclaiming his focus.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I **I love it when Dumbledore's a cheeky bastard, and he loves fucking with Snape. Not literally. Or maybe, you never know ;) Thank you for the reviews and for reading! Please keep reviewing, I love hearing your thoughts! There's a tiny bit of cringe in this chapter, so buckle up lol.

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"Where have you been all day? We've been looking for you for ages. What did Snape say to you when we left?" Ron jumped to questions the second he'd noticed her enter the Gryffindor common room. She stiffened at the mention of the man who earlier had had his hands all over her. It was harder to see what she'd found appealing about it now that her head was clear. She was confused, uncomfortable, feeling guilty, and more than anything, she wanted to pretend it never happened.

"Is that the potion from class in your robes?" Harry reached for Hermione's side pocket, and she jerked back turning away and blushing furiously. After she'd all but poisoned Snape, she vowed never again to allow magic into affairs of the heart. The thought of Harry even touching the pocket in which the potion resided repulsed her.

"I knew I was going to fail if Snape sampled my potion, so I tried to get rid of it." She tried to explain it away, but her voice was too high-pitched to be casual. She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak calmly.

"So are you planning on answering my question?" Ron asked impatiently.

"What?"

"Snape. What happened after we left?" He and Harry both looked to her curiously.

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "He gave me detention. I don't really want to talk about it." She said sensing the rising questions her answer had inspired.

Ron's eyes were wide with amused appreciation. "Hermione Granger in detention? What did you do?"

She didn't answer him, and she didn't have to. He and Ron were on a rant about Snape.

"She probably breathed too loudly. He can't wait to give out detention, especially to Gryffindors."

"Especially to friends of _Harry Potter_." Ron imitated Snape's voice badly, and Hermione felt a little queazy.

At regular intervals, the conversation would turn to another question about the earlier incident. Hermione endured and managed not to snap at her friends. They could be tactless and apparently couldn't read people very well, but it wasn't their fault she'd made such a grievous mistake.

At some point, Harry must've sensed her discomfort with the line of questioning and mercifully let her be. He seemed rather wrapped up in his own thoughts, and it was just as well. Hermione could hardly look at him, much less have a normal, friendly conversation with him as though she hadn't tried to alter his mental state in her favor.

Hermione didn't want to leave the common room for fear of seeing Snape again. When they went down to dinner, her nerves eased to find Snape's spot at the faculty table vacant. Good. The man mostly kept to himself in the dungeons when he wasn't skulking along the halls monitoring for misconduct.

Consequently, she never really saw him much around school other than potions class and at meals. She could keep to her table and bury herself in the discussion of her friends at meal times, but she shuddered at the thought of attending potions class with him again. She couldn't even picture it and shoved the thought far away from her. She'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

The quiet screeching of the owls swooping in to deliver residual mail from that morning interrupted the conversation. A large, dark brown owl carrying a bouquet of red roses flapped around the great hall and grabbed the attention of many students. Girls from every house eyed the prize excitedly awaiting to see who the lucky recipient was, while Hermione hadn't even noticed the fuss until the owl perched next to her atop the bundle.

She froze with her fork halfway in her mouth. The food was no longer appetizing, and she had to force herself to swallow as she took in all the stares. She wanted to pretend she didn't see the roses. If crabby Professor Snape was sending her flowers, it couldn't be a good sign. Had the potion already taken over Snape's sound mind?

Obviously he'd made a misjudgment. His little gift was drawing unnecessary attention to her. Ron, Harry, the whole Weasley family, and the entire rest of the Gryffindor table were glancing in her direction. Ron's cheeks were as red as hers.

"Who are those from?" His voice cracked in his attempt to sound casual. She was quite certain she knew who they were from, but she pretended to search the flowers for the card she knew would not be there. "No idea. They didn't leave a note or anything." She said, her acting skills about as good as Ron's.

"That was a Hogwarts owl. At least we know it's from someone here." Harry said, though he appeared disinterested.

"Right, that narrows it down, doesn't it?" Ron muttered bitterly.

"But why wouldn't whoever sent them just bring her the flowers in person? It doesn't do them any good if she doesn't know who they're from." Harry said.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ginny spoke up, peering around Fred and George. "Whoever sent them is shy! Hermione has a secret admirer!" Hermione met Ginny's shrewd glance before looking away trying not to look suspicious. Her shoulders bowed, and she suddenly regained her appetite, occupying her mouth with food.

"Well, that's just stupid." Said Ron, who also seemed absorbed in his plate of food, though less eagerly than before. "It's not stupid! It's sweet!" Ginny said, but Luna Lovegood's approach to the table interrupted her.

"I don't think it's a secret admirer. It's not everyday you receive beautiful flowers, and if I'd received them, I'd be very curious to know who sent them. Hermione doesn't seem very curious." Luna's soft voice drew everyone short as they thought on it. Though the blonde haired girl smiled down at her non-confrontationally, Hermione was vexed.

"Do you mean to say she's got a secret boyfriend?" Fred asked with a playfully smug grin.

"I do not!" Hermione said defensively at the same time Ron said "She does not!" They looked at each other, Ron averting his eyes awkwardly.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." George muttered under his breath. Hermione resisted the urge to get up and storm out. That wouldn't do her any favors with so many onlookers. Today had been confusing and stressful enough without the extra ridicule.

"I didn't mean to make assumptions. I was simply pointing out an observation." Luna said inviting herself to sit at their table beside Hermione.

"Thank you, Luna." She said sarcastically, but made room for her anyway. She cleared her throat and set serious eyes on the group.

"Look, I don't know who sent them, and though it was a nice gesture, I don't need to drop everything and thank the sender right this minute, do I?" She said looking from face to face. Though clearly unconvinced, everyone seemed to let it go. All except for Ginny who looked ready to pounce.

"So...why didn't you tell me you had a beau?" She asked Hermione on their way back to the common room. Her pitiful attempt at a casual tone fell flat. Hermione slowly exhaled through her nose. "There's nothing to tell. I don't have a 'beau', secret or otherwise. Whoever sent the flowers was sweet, but misguided." Hermione said.

Ginny's stiff posture made it clear she didn't agree. "Well, at least Luna appreciated it." She rolled her eyes. Hermione had been eager to rid herself of the evidence of her situation, and Luna was only too happy to cart it off to Ravenclaw tower.

Ginny seemed to be biting her tongue until she couldn't hold the words at bay. "Aren't you even a little curious? No offense, but you've gone this long with very little relationship experience, and then when someone is clearly interested in you, you don't even want to think about it?"

Hermione knew her friend was well-meaning, even if she was too blunt and nosy for her own good. She kept her biting commentary to herself. "I will thank them properly if and when they come forward. Until then, what else is there to say? Anyway, I've got too much on my plate right now to be thinking about a relationship." Hermione said with finality. If only Ginny knew the circumstances behind those roses, she wouldn't encourage any exploration of that avenue.

Ginny huffed, disgruntled, and lapsed into silence. Hermione looked at her with knitted eyebrows. What was her problem? The girl seemed to be in a sour mood, so Hermione didn't challenge her.

When they returned to the Gryffindor common house, a crowd had gathered around one of the tables chatting and laughing much too loudly. At the edge of the crowd, Harry and Ron looked up at the approach of the girls trying to suppress snickers.

"What are you two so happy about?" Ginny asked, but they didn't need to answer. A male's squeaky falsetto impression of a girl's voice caught their attention.

Fred and George Weasley had gotten their hands on someone's frilly lingerie. Fred, shirtless and pale, wore a bright red thong over his head. The strap of the back end divided his face in two like ass cheeks. He held a loose, lacy bra cupped to his chest and jiggled it to a rowdy chorus of laughs. George wore a silk, skimpy, black night dress over his clothes. He climbed up on the table on all fours with his bum in the air, wiggling it slowly back and forth. Catcalls and whistles egged them both on.

"How old are you two? Seriously, you're supposed to be graduating this year!" Ginny shouted at the twins over the laughter. Ron and Harry were laughing despite her disapproving glare.

Hermione watched the scene anxiously. After receiving the roses unexpectedly, she was suspicious and on edge about the garments turning up here. As if answering her thoughts, Draco Malfoy emerged from the group laughing coldly.

"Who let _him_ in here?" Ron demanded furiously. This was supposed to be the one place they could be sure he wouldn't be. Malfoy held up a paper with elegant cursive writing.

"I've got permission from Professor Snape."

"Since when is Snape the arbiter of who can come into the _Gryffindor_ common room?" Harry asked with a look of disgust.

Malfoy held his hands up. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter. I'm only here to make a delivery." He pointed directly at Hermione. "She left her bag in the hallway with this poking out of it." He held up the box the lingerie had been in. "What can I say? I'm a nice guy, so naturally I wanted to return it to her in person. Nice _nightwear_, Granger. Looks like someone has a big night planned." He eyed her with a vicious grin.

Everyone was silent for a moment before a low laughter picked back up. The twins' eyes shifted from Hermione to the garments they wore before they rushed to remove them uncomfortably. "Sorry, Hermione, we didn't know they were yours." George's face was flushed, but he couldn't help the snicker that escaped as he spoke.

"They aren't mine!" Hermione shouted with an indignant stomp. The mocking sneers of people looking down on her made her eyes burn with the threat of tears. She could practically hear the thoughts of the crowd, the judgement of her promiscuity leaping from their faces. She just wanted to go to bed and be left alone.

"They were in _your_ bag." said Malfoy. He couldn't be any more smug if he tried.

Harry scoffed at him. "I saw her bag. They weren't there until _you_ found it." A sly look colored his face. "Wanted to give it to her in person? How creepy can you get, Malfoy?"

The jeering attentions of the crowd turned from Hermione to Malfoy, and his arrogant smile slid into a defensive scowl. "As if! I wouldn't touch a filthy mudblood like her with a ten foot pole."

As he said it, all laughter died, and a thick tension took its place. Ginny, Fred, George, and Ron all descended on him at once. "You take it back, Malfoy, or I'll rearrange your face!" Ron whipped his wand out threateningly as others protested. Malfoy was just as quick to draw his own wand, inviting the confrontation. "I'd love to see you try, Weasley"

Percy emerged from his corner of the room sensing the oncoming fight.

"Hey, Hey, enough!" He moved in between the Weasley siblings and the Slytherin boy. He faced Malfoy with his arms crossed. "Who do you think you are, coming into our house and calling one of us that despicable word? Get out!" He demanded towering over him. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him and the crowd of Gryffindors, sizing them all up. For a moment, he looked as though he thought to fight them all. Finally he whipped around, furious at having been embarrassed in front of the whole Gryffindor house.

As he was leaving, Hermione was so satisfied with his little bit of retribution that she couldn't help herself. "Thanks again for the nightwear, Malfoy!" She called. His eyes were fiery pits as he glared, his teeth bared. She knew she'd regret her taunt later when he invoked his own bit of revenge, but in the moment, she didn't care.

"Alright, clear off. Back to your business." Percy disbursed the crowd for Hermione's benefit.

Once the room was mostly clear, Ron shuffled awkwardly to the table where the lingerie lay. "Maybe I don't want to ask this, but _are_ they yours? I only ask because it's peculiar, what with the roses and-"

"They aren't mine." She insisted as Harry lifted the box to examine it. "It says Hermione Granger on the inside." Harry kept his voice down trying not to embarrass her further. Ginny was staring down at the garments with an intense frown. "Still say you don't have a boyfriend?" She asked with accusation in her tone. Hermione refused to dignify it with a response. She'd made herself more than clear.

"That's a little over the top for an anonymous crush, don't you think? That's actually really creepy." Harry said still inspecting the box.

"It's not just creepy, it's mad! I'm a little worried. What do you think, Hermione?" Ron asked, and they all looked to her as if she had answers.

"I don't want to think about it. I'm just going to go to bed." She said. She quickly gathered the lingerie, tucked them into the box, and hid it in her bag. Before anyone could protest, she was up the stairs to the peace and quiet of the dorms.

Sitting on her bed with the privacy curtains drawn, she tossed her bag roughly to the other side of the bed, the box slipping out precariously at the edge of the bed. How had she missed her bag's disappearance? She took it everywhere, and she was certain she'd had it with her at dinner. How had Snape gotten his hands on it?

She mentally retraced her steps from the moment she left his classroom to the common room. She couldn't remember not having her bag at any point, but obviously she'd walked into the common room without it.

The box tipped over and landed with a startling 'pop.' With a sigh, she grabbed it and placed it in the middle of the bed, staring at it as though it would bite her if she ventured too close. How could Snape, her professor, send her something so scandalous and have Draco Malfoy of all people deliver it to her? It seemed so far beyond the realm of possibilities that she wouldn't've believed it had she not been there.

He was the one who'd told her to stay away from him. A gift of this nature seemed an invitation to show up at his chambers, possibly wearing the articles. Her cheeks warmed, and she shook the thought away.

She bit her lip as she looked at the box. The temptation to pull the garments out and admire them nagged at her until she followed it. Disregarding the image of Fred and George in the common room, Hermione found the wear to be visually appealing. Soft, silky, sheer, high-end fabric with jewels beaded intricately along the sewn patterns. Snape had obviously spent a great deal on her. She pictured the morose man with his billowing black robes in a women's shop handling the thin, frilly material. The thought was so off-putting that she almost returned the items back to the box.

She thought about throwing them out, given the circumstances for which she'd received them. She stroked the delicate fabric with reverence. Perhaps there would be no harm in trying them on before throwing them out, just for curiosity's sake. Maybe she wouldn't look misplaced in them, and maybe they'd even suit her.

Her mind wandered to Harry and how he had inspected the lingerie with intrigue. Of course it wasn't anything more than investigative intrigue, but in her mind, he was holding them out to her in the empty Gryffindor common room. "I thought you might like them. It's about time you tried them on for me, beautiful." He crossed the space between them and wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her against him. His warm breath filled her ear as he whispered. "So I can take them back off of you."

She melted into his embrace and wasted no time grabbing his head and forcing his face to hers. She knew Harry's kiss would be soft and sweet, just as he was, but she was hungry for more. Suddenly she no longer wore her modest school robes. She wore the sheer, scandalous black gown that clung to her form and showcased her slim but curvy body.

She bumped her front against his, her body begging for his touch. Her burning need was too urgent for his slower pace. "Take it off of me, take it off!" She gasped breathlessly between rough kisses, and he was only too eager to oblige. His hands were at her thighs slipping the fabric up over her bum.

She had her face buried in his shoulder trailing her nose up the side of his neck enjoying the smell of his cologne when she looked up and noticed the dark figure. He was in the shadowy corner of the common room leaning against the wall with his arms folded, his coal black eyes smoldering. He was watching her every move with a dark expression, but when she met his eyes, his lips twitched as if to sneer.

"Glad you're enjoying my gift." He whispered, and though he was across the room, she felt the words at her left ear while Harry nibbled on the right. He continued to watch the couple with an intense gaze. Hermione was entranced by those piercing eyes. She felt as though he'd stupefied her.

The more Snape watched Harry kissing her skin, his hands on her body, what little humor he'd found in the situation slipped away. The fierce scowl he fixed her with had her cowering into Harry. Snape started toward them, and Hermione's vision was swallowed up by his billowing coat.

Her eyes fluttered open. She was curled up on her bed safely away from the vengeful potions professor.

A thud at her window caught her attention. Another owl. The thought of receiving another anonymous "gift" was enough to keep her rooted in place. The owl continued it's tapping at the glass, and Hermione bit her lip. The poor creature was compelled to deliver whatever it was and would be forced to wait for her to receive it.

With a sigh, Hermione lifted the glass and the owl landed on the window sill with an outstretched leg. A letter.

She relaxed a little as she took it from the owl. At least it wasn't something that could publicly humiliate her. With slightly unsteady hands, she tore the top of the envelope and unfolded an old, crinkly page of a book. With a nervous frown, she realized she recognized the sentence structure and recipes. It was a page from the potions book from which she'd gotten the lust potion recipe - the page directly before it if her memory served.

She grabbed her bag and rifled through it hastily. Sure enough, the book was missing. Not only had he added inappropriate and mostly unwanted items to her bag, he'd helped himself to her things while he was at it.

She dropped the bag and flipped the page from the book over and over. What was it supposed to mean? If Snape had sent her this, was it a threat? If he hadn't, did someone else know what had happened between them? She didn't have to wonder long. The page grew hot in her hands as a bright gold fire burned neatly written words into the page.

_Meet me in the dungeon at midnight. Do not forget your wand, and do not be seen._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! Struggled with a bit of writer's block with this chapter. Wasn't expecting it to happen so early, but your lovely reviews got me through it. I have a lot of scenes buzzing around in my head and written out, it's just a matter of placing them in the best order and connecting them smoothly. Let me know what you think! School is hectic, but I fully intend to update as regularly as I can!

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Hermione sat at the foot of her bed covered in ashes. She should've known Snape wouldn't leave any sort of evidence trail, including a mysterious anonymous note. A self-destructing spell was a stroke of genius that she hadn't considered before. She nursed her blistering hands rubbing them with a simple healing salve. The pain was already subsiding, but she hardly registered it as her thoughts overtook her.

_Meet me in the dungeon at midnight. Do not forget your wand, and do not be seen._

The note may be gone, but the appalling words were etched in her mind. Ten minutes of standing uselessly hadn't been enough for her to gather her thoughts, so she continued to stare blankly at the deep burgundy of her comforter not bothering to remove the mess of ashes. The cost of what she had done was finally sinking in, and the weight of it all stole her energy, leaving behind a sad, lethargic heap of a girl in its place.

It was foolish, but she'd held out hope that Snape would be able to fix this mess in a day with the wave of his wand, and she could move on with an untroubled conscience. Most magic could be easily undone after all, right? Snape was a potions master, and her potion was unsophisticated. If she could make it using readily available ingredients in the span of a class period, surely he could handle the antidote just as simply.

But the arrival of the anonymous gifts and note tonight refuted her idealistic expectation of resolving the problem quickly. Snape had said that, left untreated, the symptoms of the lust potion would progress, but he hadn't given any indication of how rapidly it would happen. Maybe he wasn't aware of it himself, but judging by the grave look he'd given her when he'd said it, she suspected it was a concern.

She glanced at the ash covered lingerie next to her and frowned. An unaltered Professor Snape wouldn't send anyone lingerie, of this she was confident. He was mean and nasty, but he was no fool. To send these things publicly and draw attention to her the way he had was utterly ridiculous and yet another thing Snape would never normally do.

He'd disliked her from the moment he met her during first year. The best she could normally expect from him was toleration, so any sort of interaction beyond the bare minimum was suspect, especially given his earlier command to stay away. His invitation to meet him alone in the dungeon could only mean...

With a sickening drop of her stomach, Hermione shoved the articles of clothing off of her bed and didn't stop there. She beat the ashes off of the comforter, and when a residue lingered, she gathered the comforter up quickly and threw it against the wall. It flopped to the floor with a flurry of ashes fluttering in the air around her.

What had she done? If Professor Snape was currently undergoing a potion-induced transformation into an obsessive, lustful stalker, what was she doing standing around having a pity party? What if he couldn't wait until midnight to have her? He could be on his way up to Gryffindor Tower right this minute to collect her and attempt to satisfy his insatiable desire.

With a pained expression, she accepted what she had to do. It wasn't as though going to Dumbledore had only just crossed her mind. It had been a looming possibility that had put her in quite the foul mood all day. She truly believed that, even hindered the way he was, Snape would pull through and save her from the dreadful encounter.

Dumbledore was someone for whom she held the upmost respect. He was everything she'd always wanted to be since she'd first read about him: successful, ambitious, wise, innovative, loyal, kind, a true leader. When she'd interacted with him, he'd appeared fond of her and was pleased that she attended Hogwarts. She remembered how her heart had swelled with pride at the respect Dumbledore paid her, not unlike the respect she held for him.

Oh, how it would hurt to watch that respect dwindle as she hung her metaphorical hat before him. Would he be disgusted to hear that a pupil he had trusted so implicitly would behave in such a manner? Or worse, maybe he'd be disappointed that he'd so misjudged her character as a student and as a person. Maybe he'd regret reaching out to her and inviting her to attend his school. He might even verbally berate her before expelling her, and it wouldn't be undeserved.

But none of it mattered when she'd upheaved someone's life so entirely. She'd not only given Snape a forbidden, dangerous, mind-altering potion, but she'd also threatened to lie and ruin his life over her idiotic mistake. She was beginning not to recognize who she was, because the Hermione Granger she knew would not act the way she had.

Regardless, Snape was surely a danger to her among others and himself. Her feelings on the matter were totally irrelevant. It didn't matter that only hours ago she'd promised to keep her mouth shut about the whole thing. She'd tell Dumbledore the truth in full and be sure to proclaim Snape's innocence in all of it. The only thing that mattered now was making things right. Dumbledore must be notified immediately, even if it meant giving up the life she knew and loved.

She stood just as someone knocked softly on the door to her room.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice sounded through the door, and she let herself in without an answer. She carried a brass tea set in her arms and forced a smile. "Tea time."

Hermione blinked, momentarily confused. She'd forgotten all about the nightly ritual she and Ginny had started at the beginning of the semester. With the amount of stress, anxiety, and negativity swirling around Hogwarts with the return of Voldemort, Ginny had insisted that the two have tea every night to unwind and share their thoughts. Strange as it had sounded, it was something Hermione had looked forward to everyday since that first night. Now it was only a silly memory, one she'd surely look back on fondly.

"Not tonight." Hermione said sadly under her breath. She grabbed her bag on the other side of the bed and puzzled over the lingerie momentarily before determining that she didn't need it as proof. Dumbledore wouldn't need to see it in person to believe it.

"What do you mean, 'not tonight?' We do this every night. It's good for us both." She said shutting the door firmly behind her and placing the tea tray on one of the beds near Hermione's bed.

Hermione sighed as she looked at the red-headed girl. How she longed to simply sit and sip tea with her and forget her troubles. If only she was dreaming and could awaken from this nightmare.

Before she could be tempted to stay and rethink the situation, she said, "I really can't tonight. There's somewhere I have to be-"

"And where would that be?" She asked with a curious tilt of her head. Hermione should've anticipated having to answer these tough questions to which she had no answers.

"I really don't have time to explain. I'm already late and I..." Hermione was already feeling the pressure of passing time. It was almost 11, and she didn't want to imagine what Snape would do if he suspected that she wasn't coming at midnight. Or ever. "Ginny, I have to go. We'll have tea when I get back, I promise." She lied as smoothly as she could before brushing past her.

"Wait!" Ginny reached out and grabbed her hand, but this isn't what stopped her in her tracks. The firm, authoritative tone Ginny took with her halted her before she even realized what happened. Surprised, she turned and met warm brown eyes and a surprisingly kind smile.

"Whatever it is can wait. You need to relax. You're way too tense." Ginny's grip on Hermione's hand tightened as she guided her to sit back down. The sound of Ginny's voice had comforted Hermione and left her in a daze.

"Wait... but I-" What was it that had been so important just a moment ago?

Ginny shushed her as she poured her tea and placed the cup into her shaky hands. "Just take deep breaths and drink your tea." Ginny said watching her carefully. Hermione wrapped her hands around the cup and obediently sipped from it closing her eyes. The warmth of the beverage traveled down her throat and bloomed in her chest calming her.

"Now, isn't that better?" Ginny asked, clasping her own cup close to her chest. Hermione nodded with a small smile. "Thank you, I actually do feel better. But there was something... I-I can't remember what, but-"

"Don't think about it now, or you'll work yourself up again." She set her cup down on Hermione's bedside table and folded her hands in her lap. "I do want to talk about something though, and I do hope you'll be honest with me."

Hermione perked at the insinuation of her dishonesty. Of course she had lied many times, but Ginny shouldn't know that or expect it from her. "Of course I'll be honest." She said with only good intentions. Something was irking her in the back of her mind. She was pretty sure she'd been about to do something important.

Ginny fixed Hermione with knowing eyes. "I know you have feelings for Harry, Hermione, and I want you to come clean about it." She said simply as though she'd mentioned something as mundane as the weather. Hermione choked on her tea mid sip and set it down to clear her airway. Ginny's eyes followed Hermione's hands as she set it on the table, lingered on the half full cup, and returned to the flustered girl.

Hermione stared back at the girl, chagrinned. "No, I... I don't." Her head fell at her pitiful attempt at lying. It would've been better to keep silent, but she knew Ginny wasn't going to let it go regardless.

"Thought you said you were going to be honest." Ginny raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Though it's kind of cute that you're trying to hide it."

Hermione was silent. Why must Ginny continuously bring up uncomfortable subjects and embarrass her?

"What makes you think I have feelings for Harry?" She asked genuinely. If it was so obvious that Ginny guessed, did Harry have suspicions as well? The thought filled her cheeks with warmth.

"I know you better than anyone. I was hoping you'd tell me on your own. I am one of your best friends after all, but since you didn't, I have to be the one to bring it up."

"Why must you?" Hermione locked eyes with Ginny, who smiled at the blush brightening Hermione's face. Ginny swiftly snatched Hermione's cup of tea and placed it back into her hands. She drank from it as an excuse to look away and focus her attention elsewhere.

"Because, silly girl, I care for you! You and Harry would be a great couple! You're both kind and thoughtful and strong and you're the best of friends. And he'd be eating from the palm of your hands if you'd just make a move."

"No. You're wrong."

"What? I'm wrong about what exactly?"

"About that last part." Hermione sighed rubbing at her left temple with her free hand. "Harry likes someone else... he, well... he likes you."

A frown bordering on a grimace marred Ginny's pretty facial features. "He does not. Don't even say that, you're so wrong." She shook her head a little too vigorously, almost angrily. "Look, I didn't want to say this until I was sure we were alone-" Ginny turned her head to survey the empty room as though looking for spies. "But I think Harry sent the roses and lingerie. Shh- don't interrupt me, I already know what you're going to say. Yes, Harry's a damn fine actor, but I'm sure I saw him carrying the white box right before your bag went missing."

Hermione absorbed what she was saying slowly, but her heart leapt in her chest at the mere thought that her fantasy held truth to it. What if he really had sent it and was too shy to say anything? If this was the case, he'd definitely handled it the wrong way, but that could be easily forgiven.

Before she allowed herself to get too excited, her skepticism set in. Did it make sense for Harry to send her the things and then call the sender creepy? It seemed overly dedicated to the facade to insult his own gesture in the process. And then he'd laughed at the scene Fred and George had caused in the common room. That didn't bode well for her. If he had indeed slipped them into her bag, his actions pointed to intentional humiliation or, at the very least, a lack of social understanding. But that didn't make sense either.

She couldn't help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as she addressed what Ginny had said. "I don't know what you saw, but I don't think he sent them." She immediately busied her mouth with her tea cup at the look on Ginny's face. Why did she have to open her big mouth? Ginny always had hard questions that she didn't know how to answer.

"Oh really? If not Harry, then do you suspect someone else?" Ginny asked. This was a dangerous question. She did indeed suspect someone else, someone she wasn't able to speak to anyone about. Except for Dumbledore.

With an alarmed sniff, Hermione jumped to her feet, the memory of her self-imposed task flooding back to her. "That's what it was! I have to talk to Dumbledore right away! I have to-" Hermione tried to step around Ginny, who had stood with her and blocked her path.

"Whoa, whoa, what's this about talking to Dumbledore? Stop!" Ginny reached up and grabbed Hermione's shoulders forcing her attention. "What are you telling Dumbledore? Tell me, Hermione!" Ginny demanded, and Hermione felt her body sag against her grip. The words she should not say came tumbling from her mouth before she was able to stop them.

"I've done something terrible! I made what I thought was a love potion - but it wasn't a love potion, it was a _lust_ potion! I made it for Harry but I-I-"

"Ssshhh! Lower your voice! Someone will hear you!" Ginny clamped a hand over Hermione's mouth and glanced at the door uneasily. When she turned back to Hermione, she set fierce eyes on her and gently shoved her back to sitting on the bed. "Calm down. I'm going to make you some more tea, and we'll forget about this for now."

"But I can't just forget about it! I-" She shut up when Ginny turned back to her as though she would silence her again. Instead, the girl looked at her affectionately. "Yes, you can. Being all upset isn 't helping the situation, is it?" She refilled Hermione's cup, handed it to her, and sat next to her for a moment. Ginny was glancing over Hermione's stiff body when she brightened.

"I know what you need. This will help you relax." She said and swung her legs up onto the bed crawling behind Hermione. She scooted close enough for Hermione to feel the heat of her body against her back. And then she felt soft, kneading hands working at her neck and shoulders gently. She breathed deeply at the feel and leaned into her touch.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like that." Ginny's soft voice was close to her ear, her breath blowing strands of her frizzy hair. There was a hint of amusement in her tone that Hermione didn't understand but didn't question. "It's perfectly natural for a girl with a crush to want to persuade the object of her affection to notice her in that way. You did nothing wrong, especially since I'm assuming he never got the potion. He didn't appear to be... overly impassioned."

"No, I didn't give it to him."

"What did you do with the potion then?"

Hermione nodded at her discarded school robe on the floor before them. "It's in the pocket."

"Well, we can't have that! Someone could find it and either expose you for making it or become victim to it. Wouldn't that be a nightmare?" Ginny said, her tone nearly mocking. Hermione closed her eyes and pretended not to hear it.

"Do you have something I can put it in?" Ginny asked, and Hermione reached for her bedside table drawer while Ginny retrieved the robe. All she could find was an empty perfume bottle, a container that Ginny found satisfactory. She used her wand to siphon the potion from the robe pocket to the bottle and closed it firmly. After a quick inspection of the pocket, she visibly relaxed.

"There we are. I'll throw this out after curfew so no one will suspect anything." said Ginny slipping the bottle into her own robe pocket, and Hermione made no move to stop her. She was in no position to deny Ginny anything, and she wanted that potion as far from her as possible. Ginny reclaimed her spot behind Hermione and rubbed her back a little more firmly. "Now, finish your tea. And listen to me carefully when I say this." She waited for Hermione to take another long sip of tea before she spoke.

"You cannot tell Dumbledore anything about what we were just talking about. You absolutely cannot. If he or anyone else finds out that you made a lust potion with intentions of giving it to someone, you'll be expelled. Do you hear me?" Her voice was silky and pleasant, and Hermione subconsciously leaned toward it. As soon as she said the soothing words, Hermione's mind accepted them eagerly. the urge to run for the door and up to Dumbledore's office disappeared as quickly as it had reappeared. Of course Ginny was right. How could she've been about to tell Dumbledore everything? What a mess that would've been!

"You're right." She said.

"I'm glad you see it my way." Ginny said with a smile, reaching a hand out to gently caress Hermione's cheek. "I'm only trying to protect you."

"I know. Thank you." said Hermione cupping the hand at her cheek and pressing it closer. She felt the steady, slightly rapid beating of Ginny's heart as she pressed her bosom against her. She was beginning to wind the fingers of her free hand through Hermione's curls when a knock startled the two to opposite sides of the bed.

"You two can't stay cooped up in there all night. It's Friday night! Don't let a bunch of stupid boys spoil the fun!" Said a voice that sounded a lot like Lavender Brown, but Hermione couldn't be sure. It sounded like there was a crowd of people outside of the door giggling and stomping around. Hermione had no interest in joining them in whatever it was they were calling 'fun,' but the air in the dorm was stifling, even more so with Ginny perched tensely at the foot of her bed refusing to look at her.

And the clock on the wall refusing to be ignored ticking ever closer to midnight was enough to drive her mad. She certainly wasn't going to be able to sleep with knowledge of Snape on the prowl in the castle waiting for her. She couldn't take it anymore. If 'fun' was what it would take to remove the edge, then 'fun' would be had.


	6. Chapter 6

Snape's office was gloomier than usual, darkened by a diminishing fire in the fireplace. The normally well-kept room was a disaster. In his frustration, Snape had pulled out nearly every potion book in his personal library as well as a few Hogwarts library books and left them strewn across the room at random. Loose, illegible papers cluttered nearly every flat surface, including furniture and floor space. He'd run out of parchment in his frenzied note-taking and begun writing on his desk and on the stone wall behind it.

Snape was bent over his desk nose deep in an ancient volume. His eyes were dry from not blinking for too long as he squinting at the faded calligraphy. He hadn't moved from his seat for over an hour. His joints were stiff, the blood circulation in his legs was poor, his stomach growled, and his head ached, but he ignored his body's protests.

He'd managed to power through the remainder of the day with minimal hiccups in his behavior, but eventually his luck would run out, especially if he pushed that luck with a lack of diligence. He'd missed dinner among other evening activities to devote himself to his research.

He was desperate for an answer, anything but the answer he continued to find. Surely there had to be another way. Lust potion should have as easy a solution as a regular love potion. Even amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world, had a simple antidote that could be brewed overnight. The Granger girl must have found the confounded lust potion from the very depths of hell.

And the question was present in his jumbled thoughts, however distantly. Where _had_ she found it?

As much as he loathed to give her any sort of credit, he couldn't ignore that making a lust potion was blatantly out of character for Hermione Granger. Whatever else he may think about her, she wasn't normally a rule breaker and certainly not a law breaker. He didn't know the girl well, but based on observation, he'd describe her as insufferably principled. She was the type to uphold her values and expect those around her to fall in line, lest they face her judgment. So what could have led someone like that to deviate so drastically?

Whatever the reason, she'd done it, and he was her unwilling victim. He'd all but accepted what he had to do when he'd sent her the note to meet him. He was already fiercely dreading the encounter, though to his displeasure, he was more excited to see her than not.

He wondered what she was doing now and what she was thinking about. Was she in the Gryffindor common room wasting her time away with the likes of Potter and Weasley? He frowned in distaste. It was probable but not at all satisfying. Perhaps she was puzzling over his note in her bedroom wondering whether or not to follow his instruction.

He had proposed the meeting out of necessity, but he was terribly curious about her and couldn't help viewing it as a test. Was she foolhardy enough to come at his call? Or would he have to track her down and force her submission? Perhaps she'd be slippery, hard to find, and make him pine after her, work for her, yearn for her.

Arousal sent a strange tingling sensation to his groin. He glanced down at the light gray trousers he wore to suppress his stubborn erection. The charm worked to disperse the tingle over time until it fizzled out. The trousers serviced him well when he needed discretion, but now in the privacy of his office, they were a hinderance. If he could just take them off for a moment-

_No. Don't even think of it. _

Snape mentally scolded himself and forced his face closer to the book he had been trying to read. He read through two paragraphs before his thoughts drifted back to the gutter.

He wondered if the Granger girl was thinking of him now. Did she think of him even a fraction as often as she crossed his mind? With the unbridled giddiness of a third year girl, he found himself hoping that she did. How ridiculous!

"Ahem!" He cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly to bring his focus back to the real world. He closed his eyes and anchored himself to reality through sensation. The temperature was dropping with the dying fire. He would stoke it if only he could get ahold of himself. The stiff, bumpy wood of his chair was hurting his back, and for now he was grateful for the pain. It grounded him. His mouth was dry and tasted bitter. He'd had nothing but black coffee to sustain him for hours.

He distantly heard the sound of running water through old, rickety pipes. Probably Slytherin students having their showers. He envied them. The hot water would snap him out of it and soothe his aches and pains. But he had no time for self-indulgence now. He had to keep searching for an answer in the short amount of time he had left.

Snape gathered himself, rolled his shoulders, and reclaimed his book with a breathy sigh. History of potions, a book he'd read outside of class his sixth year. Accruing knowledge of the greatest potion masters in history and their journey of discovery had been vital in his own discovery of original brews. Thankfully it was an engaging read and shouldn't take him long to get through.

He was flipping pages steadily when the background sound of the running water grew louder and caught his attention again. Another house of students claimed the showers, and from the direction of the sound, he guessed Gryffindors to be the culprits. With a shaky breath, his mind forced on him the image of Granger in the steamy communal shower, water rivulets running over her soft bare skin.

She was so beautiful that the mere sight of her took his breath away. He couldn't wait to see her again and feast his eyes on her every little curve.

He'd noticed more about the girl in their brief classroom assignation than he had in the six years he'd known her. Her hair, her eyes, her face, her skin, her body, all of her drew him in. She was much more shapely than he'd thought, though the school uniform did nothing to help accentuate her features.

Her choice of adornment in particular was much too modest for his tastes. Even without the robe to hide her figure entirely, the wooly vest and pleated skirt she always wore hung heavily on her like pieces of an old quilt. He would've assumed her to be flat chested before he'd felt her body against his.

He'd felt her breasts through both of their bulky clothing, and though he wouldn't call her 'well-endowed', he could already imagine the most perfect, perky little mounds under her vest. He longed to see them, touch them, tease them.

A body like hers should be on display, not covered by oversized, unflattering fabrics. A silky, delicate material that clung to her form and showcased her assets would suit her. Hell, nothing at all would suit her quite well. He would coax the girl out of those wretched school clothes and into his waiting arms in all of her naked beauty.

But the thought was interesting. Would he, in fact, be able to convince her out of her clothing? Though his thoughts were affected by the lust potion, he hadn't suddenly deluded himself into believing he was anything more than what he appeared to be.

Never, even in his youth, had he considered himself to be attractive. He was awkward, often unhygienic, and put no visible effort into his appearance. He wasn't exactly the friendly type, and he didn't have girls lined up at his door begging for him to take them. Additionally, he was twenty years older than the Granger girl, and he was her teacher. As he recalled, he hadn't been particularly nice to her over the years.

All of this and still he must've done something right to have her moaning the way she had. He'd thought about it that day more times than he could count. He'd shoved her against the wall and forced his weight atop her, and she'd squirmed underneath him, not in protest, not to get away. No, her hips had bucked toward him, her chest heaving into him, her body begging for more of him. Her response had made it nearly impossible to extricate himself.

With his hands buried in her hair and his lips trailing her jaw up to her ear, he hadn't missed one of her little excited breaths. And when he'd touched her in just the right way, she couldn't contain herself any longer and moaned in her softest voice directly into his ear. Oh, she had wanted him in that moment, and he couldn't fathom why he'd pulled away. Her skin was so soft against his, her breath hot and her legs slightly spread. It would've been only too easy to slide his hand down under her skirt and into her knickers.

He slammed his book shut on his desk and let his head fall onto it with a soft thud. This was hopeless. _He_ was hopeless.

His thoughts were uncontrollable, a clear sign that it was time for another shot of clarity potion. He'd taken three in the six hours he'd spent pouring over books when normally one shot would last the day. The more he tried to fight the effects of the potion, the quicker it seemed to eat at his defenses. He was tempted to try something a little stronger. Hard liquor. He wondered if alcohol would suppress the effects of the potion as it suppressed all other functions, but now was no time to test the theory.

With the catalyst herself due to arrive within the next two hours, he had to be sharp and remain as focused as possible. And she wasn't the only company he was expecting. Snape glanced at the clock over the fireplace and stiffened at the time. In compliance with Dumbledore's request to check up on Draco Malfoy, He'd told the boy to be at his office at ten, just five minutes from now.

Snape grabbed his wand and set to work restoring his office to its former tidy state. He left the writing on the walls and desk casting an invisibility spell to hide his marks. Satisfied with his work, he retrieved his portioned shot of clarity potion and downed it. He'd be grateful if he could have even a few minutes of clear thought.

With three minutes to spare, he busied himself with a stack of first year essays and set his mind to grading. Ten o'clock came and went, followed by another ten minutes, then twenty more. Snape had inked over half his stack of parchment when he set them aside no longer able to stand distractions. He stood from his desk eyeing the slightly cracked door with annoyance.

So the Malfoy boy had 'forgotten' their meeting, had he? Slowly treading over to the door, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. He considered entering the Slytherin common room and reminding the boy of his obligation, but he simply wasn't motivated. He'd deal with him later, perhaps when he could pull the boy straight into his office rather than await his arrival.

He glanced at the clock once more, anticipating the arrival of midnight. He had about an hour and a half before she'd come, and the clarity potion did little to staunch his desire for her. Already the image of the girl gyrating in the shower was returning in full force, and this time he didn't fight it.

In his mind's eye, she was facing away from him teasingly throwing glances over her shoulder in his direction. She was not horrified to find him watching her during such a private moment, rather she relished his gaze taking in every inch of her. She enjoyed the attention she was getting, and he was more than eager to give it to her. He moved in closer to get a better look, and as he did, he was unbuttoning his trousers, both in his mind and in real life.

She gasped, giggled, and pulled the shower curtain to cover her form. She peeked from behind it with a sly smile. "Not yet! You have to be patient!" Her voice was sultry silk as it lulled over the words. Oh, she was toying with him, the dirty girl, making him work for it. It only made him want her more.

Momentarily surfacing from his thoughts, he shut and locked his office door. He'd abstained for too long, and he could deny himself no longer. Returning to his desk, he yanked his zipper down and pushed his trousers to his mid thigh. His soft member was already stiffening, exposed and free from the repressive fabric. He wrapped his hand around the flesh and tugged at it until it was standing at attention, fully hard.

Closing his eyes, he imagined a curious, Hermione Granger before him. She was staring at his length with wide, excited eyes. "Can I touch it?" She asked innocently, but before he could answer, she grabbed him with both of her hands.

His own fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his shaft, fanning out, massaging the skin delicately, teasingly. He circled the swollen head with the pad of his thumb. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and mumbled an expletive at his expert touch. Touching himself had never felt better than when he was under her spell thinking of her, and when he closed his eyes, it was only too easy to believe she was the one touching him.

As intoxicating as the slow ministrations were, he had no patience for them. It was as though all day had been leading up to this point, and with relief within his grasp, he couldn't stop to smell the roses. He gripped his member and slid his palm up from base to tip before sliding back down. The mental imagery in his head returned the Granger girl to her rightful place, the shower.

There was no longer a shower curtain for her to hide behind, and she was exposed to him with her legs spread wide as she rubbed a bar of soap at her inner thighs. The details of her most intimate parts were blurry to him as he had no idea what she looked like in this way. Pity. He would have to remedy his ignorance as soon as possible, perhaps tonight. Still, his mind filled in the fuzzy details with generic parts, and it sufficed for the moment.

Snape continued to stroke himself as the girl rubbed her soapy, slippery fingers over her body. She reached up to cup her breasts, massaging and lathering them until they were foamy. She covered the nipples with the palm of her hands and pushed her breasts together, presenting her ample cleavage to him with an inviting smile. "You like what you see, Professor?" She asked in a sugary sweet voice. She bit her lip and winked, knowing fully well what she was doing to him.

He gasped and his hand moved faster over his sensitive skin. The pressure was already beginning to build, his breaths uneven and ragged. He could imagine nestling his manhood into her cleavage and sliding himself between the hot, wet skin. A strangled grunt escaped him despite his efforts. Giving in to the pleasure was too good to waste focus on silencing himself.

He watched the girl lift her breasts up near her face and her tongue swiped at the foam twice before she released them with a bounce, never breaking eye contact with him. She went to work on her legs, stretching them before him, caressing the smooth skin. Her fingers trailed up from her ankle to her knee to the apex of her thighs. She gasped and smiled as her fingers brushed over her sweet spot, and her fingers lingered, drumming over the volatile area.

His rubbing motions sped up with the continuing build of sensation, his excitement growing, his muscles clenching. oh, he was close, way too close too fast. It wasn't fair! He'd suffered for this moment, and he should be able to enjoy it for hours, but he couldn't stop. He was teetering on the edge of climax, a warm blooming tingle pulsing through his abdomen faster and faster. He had to come!

A knock on his door startled him right as he reached orgasm and released onto his desk. Panicked and desperate to cover himself, he swiped the side of his robe up over his groin and finished into it. He bit down on his fist to muffle his staggered breathing as he nervously eyed the door. Anger welled up inside of him. Of course he would be disturbed during what would have been his best wank ever. That was his life, he should expect it from these inconsiderate little-

Another knock, this time louder and more demanding.

"Mother of Merlin, can't I have a bloody moment's peace!" He growled under his breath as he refastened his trousers. Shedding the soiled robe, he mopped up the mess on his desk with it and tossed it underneath the desk. He straightened his long-sleeved shirt, pulled his hair back away from his face, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Another knock. "I'm coming!" He hissed but made an effort to calm himself before he greeted the unlucky visitor. He yanked the door back angrily and glared down at the skinny girl in his doorway. "This had better be important, Miss Parkinson." Snape's tone was clipped to avoid shouting.

The already pale Pansy Parkinson lost color and drew back at his aggressive stance, timid for only a moment before regaining herself.

"Sir, I saw them go down to the lake!" She started to explain, hasty with excitement.

"Who is 'them'?" He asked impatiently.

"A bunch of Gryffindor girls. They were clearly drinking, and they went down to the lake and..." She stopped and blushed, looking away.

"Spit it out." He demanded. He snapped his fingers to draw her eyes back to him, and she flinched but followed his gesture obediently.

"Well, they're s-skinny dipping. Sir." She said shyly, an uncomfortable silence trailing her words.

Snape was quite unimpressed by the revelation. Hogwarts students had been participating in debaucherous depravity of all sorts since he'd been a student and long before. Maybe yesterday he'd have jumped at the opportunity to punish misbehavers, but tonight was not the night to bother him with such foolishness.

Snape allowed a flash of the slightest amused sneer before his face hardened into disinterest. "You've sorely misjudged the situation if you believe me to be the appropriate person in which to divulge this information. Surely this has crossed your mind. If indeed a bunch of school girls reside at the lake without clothes on, my involvement as a male educator would spark controversy."

"No, Sir, no one thinks-"

"And since they are not members of my house, I bear no responsibility for their behavior." He said with finality.

Pansy frowned at Snape, clearly affronted by his disregard. Judging by her sudden attitude, she seemed to have been expecting a scene to unfold thanks to her inside information.

"Well, I had to tell someone! I don't know where Professor McGonagall's personal chambers are, and they-those Gryffindor girls could be hurt! They're drunk and swimming in the lake!" Her voice swung up with discontent.

Snape rolled his eyes biting his tongue. "Yes, I can see you are quite concerned for their well-being." His tone dripped with sarcasm. Pansy shifted, offended and antsy.

"Very well, I will inform Professor McGonagall just as soon as you're on your way back to the common room." He said. Students in his house were beginning to believe they ruled the school, that they could come and go as they pleased, suffer no consequences for their actions, police other students even! It was as though they'd been studying up on Gryffindor philosophy. Maybe Dumbledore had made a valid point in his assessment of his grip on his own house. Surely a crackdown would humble them.

Pansy made to protest. "But-"

"And I wouldn't dilly-dally. One might start to wonder what you're doing up past curfew spying students at the lake." He narrowed his eyes pointedly. Her mouth was slightly agape before a twisted frown closed it. This meeting had not gone the way she'd expected. He didn't want to think about what she'd hoped he would do with the information.

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. She didn't need further prompting to take her leave.

Snape waited until the girl disappeared around the corner before turning on his heels the opposite direction toward the stairs. Following the bitterly unsatisfying end to his stimulation came the urge to do it again and take the experience to the next level. If there was a chance that the Granger girl lay bare at the lake for anyone to see, he'd be there to witness it and give his imagination a well earned break. The little voice of reason that would've stopped him from his current course of action was conspicuously absent. He tore up the stairs with a quick grace and no reservations.

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**A/N: **AH I'm nervous about this one! We're slowly but surely getting into rated M territory, and I'm not as familiar with writing that sort of thing. That said, I can't wait to hear your thoughts! Your reviews always excite me to write more!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: ****Trigger warning: descriptive fear of sexual abuse/rape.** So sorry for the wait! After I get through this short rough patch in school, I'll be back on a schedule for updates. Hopefully this longer chapter will make up a bit for the wait! Thank you for the reviews and for continuing to follow this story! Hope you enjoy!

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The Gryffindor common room was abuzz with dawning weekend energy. The younger students ran about casting elementary spells at each other and stomping up and down the stairs, hanging from heights that made Hermione cringe. Surely they would fall and hurt themselves! Surely she should stop them, but she remained firmly planted, her limbs heavy like cement blocks. She knew her warnings would be ignored, and everyone had survived up to this point just fine without her bitching at them.

How could she blame the youngest when the older ones set a piss poor example? They were gathered in the center of the room, having cleared the furniture to the periphery, and casting more advanced, risky spells at each other. The room was a mess. Pieces of tables, desks, and chairs crunched beneath their feet. A fine layer of saw dust coated much of the room and the residents as spells tore into the old carpentry.

Hermione had lost track of how many times she'd told those who would listen that it was a bad idea. Why couldn't they just play normal drinking games like the other houses? Really, must they destroy the room and cause a ruckus? Drunken people and magic didn't often mix well. But then again, who was she to judge? She'd already run through her share of the beer supply, and she continued to sip at her drink.

She knew from experience that the older house residents wouldn't listen to her, and short of alerting Professor McGonagall and having her shut down the party, nothing would dissuade them. She had no intentions of shutting anything down, so against her better judgment, she settled firmly into the sofa and watched the chaos.

Bottles and cups of alcohol littered the floors. The faint sound of music coming from who knows where was drowned out by the yelling, guffawing, and various pounding sounds of people acting a fool. A group of fifth years threw their empty bottles to the floor with a loud shatter just for the hell of it, and having seen the display, two rowdy first year boys picked up every empty bottle they found and smashed them.

What had gotten into everyone? They were abnormally rambunctious even for a Friday night, and while normally she would've barricaded herself inside her room with annoyed disapproval, a silencing charm, and a good book, she couldn't help but appreciate the atmosphere. It must be nice to not have a single care.

There was too much going on for her to ruminate on unpleasant things, things she refused to bring back to the front of her mind. And being surrounded by so many people - so many eyes, so many witnesses - she could relax into a delusion of safety. Nothing was going to happen. No dark figure in a sweeping cloak was going to creep up behind her and lay his hands on her in the crowded Gryffindor common room.

"Boo!" Someone yelled in her ear and grabbed her shoulders. Hermione gasped and whipped around meeting warm brown eyes.

"Ginny!" Hermione whinged as the girl laughed and took a seat next to her on the lumpy old sofa.

"I'm sorry! You looked tense, and I couldn't resist! Here, this will loosen you up a bit." The redhead handed her a small cup of fire whiskey. She took it without hesitation and immediately downed the contents. Ginny raised her eyebrows, impressed by her friend's seemingly carefree attitude.

"Whoa, I didn't expect you to actually take it! I thought I was going to have to convince you." She said sipping at her own drinking.

Hermione shrugged and placed the empty cup on one of the few tables that still stood. "I can't always be the responsible one." She shrugged somewhat defensively.

"That's the spirit!" George Weasley clapped Hermione on the back as he appeared behind her. He'd startled her, but she didn't react other than moving her shoulder out of his reach. He took a swig of his beer and pointed to the center of the room where the wizard duels were starting up again. "Get a load of this."

Hermione heard Ron's voice before she saw him. He was teetering back and forth as though his legs would give out on him at any moment.

"You're going down, Weasley!" Seamus Finnegan declared from across the Gryffindor common room. His grin was lopsided as was his stance as he faced Ron with his wand haphazardly displayed.

"Yeah, yeah, heard that one before. Gonna back it up or keep flapping your lips?" Ron taunted, spinning his own wand, dropping it, and stumbling to grab it again. Their bellowed challenges attracted more onlookers.

"Wands at the ready!" Lee Jordan shouted as the crowd heckled the duelers . Without a word to his current company, George rushed to join his brother and interrupt the spectacle.

"Wait a minute! Has everyone placed their bets?" Fred was asking when George lightly shoved him to get his attention.

"Shut up, everybody shut up! It's too loud, and if we wake old McGonagall, or - Merlin help us all - Percy, there goes our night!" Said George. The crowd had indeed gotten louder, but Hermione couldn't imagine anyone actually sleeping through the past hour of activity.

"I told you the silencing charm is impenetrable." Fred said with an annoyed flip of his hair.

"Yes, but _you _put it up. I'd place my bet on your 'impenetrable' silencing charm being penetrable."

"You watched me do it! It's worked through the racket this lot's been making all night!"

Seamus didn't wait for them to finish bickering before he cast his spell and knocked Ron back into one of the bookshelves lining the wall. He smacked against it displacing several books and fell to the floor with a yelp. He was collecting himself when a flurry of movement around him knocked him back down. So many spoke at once that Hermione couldn't keep track.

"Foul!"

"It's not a foul! I'm keeping him on his toes!"

"That's fucked, you git, you've thrown the round!"

"No he hasn't! He's won fair and square! Now cough up my money, Fred!"

"I'll give you your money back, but you're off your nut if you think I owe you for that cheat!"

Fred and George were swarmed with angry people as they attempted to act as referees and analyze the match. Ron was nursing a sore backside and staring daggers at Seamus. Hermione couldn't help the hysterical giggle that bubbled to the surface.

Someone plopped down beside her ungracefully. She didn't even have to look to know who it was. He smelled as sweet as ever, a heavenly mixture of cologne, soap, and slight hint of sweat - though the faint whiff of liquor tainted it. His big green eyes sparkled even in the low light. Hermione's voice caught, laughter dying as she stared back into those dazzling eyes.

"Harry." Hermione greeted almost too softly to hear. Her posture straightened, her shoulders stiff and hands clasped in her lap. His appearance threatened to bring all of the turmoil of the day back to the forefront of her thoughts, but she refused to allow it. If she let her mind follow the whirlwind of terrible thoughts, she might panic. Panicking was something she positively could not do. Ginny had been right to stop her from making the rash decision to tell Dumbledore what she'd done, but it still didn't sit well with her.

Dwelling on it and making herself miserable would not solve anything. For the moment, she just needed to relax and unwind.

"You're in a good mood. How many drinks have you had?" He quirked an eyebrow with a half curious, half skeptical look. It made Hermione blush and put her drink down self-consciously.

"I haven't had many." She said, but the beginnings of a numbing sensation in her extremities refuted her statement.

"She can have as many as she wants. It's Friday night. Let the girl live her life." Ginny said beside her. Her tone was lighthearted and teasing, but the glint in her eye dared Harry to challenge what she'd said.

He may have, but Ron's hobbled approach interrupted the conversation. "Thanks for the help." He said breathless and sarcastic, and sank into a chair facing their sofa. He rubbed at his face focusing on his temples as he blinked and tried to focus his vision.

"It looked like you had it covered." Harry's snark was lost on Ron as his head tipped to the side. Finally, Hermione thought, all that showboating about holding his liquor had caught up to him.

She groaned internally at the flash of dark blonde hair. These days, if Ron graced them with his presence, usually Lavender Brown wasn't far behind. Sure enough, she emerged from the crowd and settled herself on the arm of his chair. "I'll help you." She said, her hands running through his shaggy hair and guiding his head to rest against her chest.

Hermione couldn't help wrinkling her nose. Lavender's unashamed puppy love act had gotten old after the first day, and now it was entirely intolerable. Ron was too drunk to deter her advances, and she would be sure to take full advantage of that.

"Wait for me!" Parvati said and took a seat on the other arm rest of Ron's chair. Lavender narrowed her eyes at the girl with a loaded gaze, but Parvati shook her head. "Oh no, you ditched me for this git last weekend! I'm staying!" She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly and turned her head. Her lip protruded slightly, a result of being snuffed.

Lavender's reply was silenced by the sounds of older students ushering the younger ones up to bed. Their complaints went unheard as they made their way up the spiral staircase.

"Alright! With the kiddies heading to bed, we can have some real fun!" Fred said while pushing another sofa up to the growing group around Hermione. He and George plopped down counting coins one by one in front of everyone. The tinkling sounds of them falling to the floor was grating and drew attention.

"You know, if you keep flashing that money around like that, you're likely to lose it." Angelina Johnson said as she and Katie Bell joined the twins on the sofa. The small area was getting crowded, and Hermione's body felt uncomfortably warm.

As Romilda Vane and a few of her friends took up the spots on Ginny's other side, she was squished in between both Ginny and Harry. Her bare thighs rubbed against the rough denim of Harry's jeans as they made room for the newcomers. Hermione no longer cared about optics. She wordlessly summoned another bottle, giggling when the bottom of it knocked into the side of Ron's head on the way to her. Lavender shot her a dirty look, but Hermione just smiled and tipped the bottle back gulping the contents.

As crowded as it already was, the remaining Gryffindors who had no desire to head to bed joined their group, some pulling up chairs and some sitting on the floor. Though it was significantly quieter than before, the concentrated mass around Hermione sounded amplified as though they were all talking into her ear. She shook her head and took another swig.

"Enough idle chitchat. Who's up for a more... _interesting _kind of game?" George spoke over the individual conversations, and everyone quieted listening eagerly.

"Like what?" Harry asked intrigued.

"Like a rousing game of truth or dare?" Fred said raising a sneaky eyebrow.

"What are we, a bunch of second years? Should we all sit in a circle and guess each others' crushes while we're at it?" Lee Jordan scoffed, but many among the group seemed open to the idea.

"Not just any old game of truth or dare. _Magically influenced _truth or dare." George pulled a potion vile from his pocket, one Hermione immediately recognized with a sense of dread.

"Veritaserum. Truth serum." George explained for those who looked at him questioningly. "Swiped it from the greasy git himself while he had his back turned."

Hermione's teeth clenched at the mention of one she was desperately trying to forget. She pried her teeth open to take another long drink from her bottle.

George continued like an enthusiastic salesmen with a big pitch. "Think truth is the easier option? Choose wisely. One drop of this stuff and everyone in this room will know your deepest, darkest secrets." His tone dropped as he said each word slowly, deliberately, cryptically. To his delight, the room responded accordingly - total silence and stillness as everyone eyed the little black vile anxiously. The mere thought of the potion frayed Hermione's nerves. Unlike the most-likely frivolous worries of those around her, Hermione had a fresh, day old secret that could ruin her life if her careless tongue revealed it.

And just like that, the fragile dam was cracking and the miserable thoughts were leaking one by one back into her head. Lust Potion. Expulsion. Public Scorn. Law breaking. Attempted drugging of her best friend. Azkaban. Professor Snape. Professor Snape was after her. Secrets. Lies. _Professor Snape was after her! _

An icy anxiety bloomed in her chest, and she was suddenly restless. She started to stand, but a small hand clamped around her wrist and pulled her back down before anyone noticed she'd moved. She looked over at Ginny, who eyed her without expression. She felt the girl's fingers intertwine with hers and squeeze, and a calm just strong enough to keep her seated settled over her. She sank back into the soft couch relieved. She didn't even notice Harry staring at her with Ginny's eyes holding hers.

George's throaty, satisfied laugh disrupted the eerie silence. "Not so much a game for second years now, is it? And if that's not enough to convince you, check this out." He reached into Fred's pocket, but Fred yanked away and retrieved another potion vile, this once a dark green color.

"I think I'll introduce this beauty myself. It's my own little invention after all." Fred smiled proudly showing all of his teeth.

"Your invention my arse. You stole Snape's notes."

"No need to be jealous of my successes, brother. You'll have your time to shine one day too." He sneered playfully. He was still talking, but Hermione was stuck on George's comment. Snape's notes? What notes?

"This potion is for those of you of the chicken shit variety. You know who you are. Take this, and you'll be unable to refuse a command. No dare will be too much for you to handle, because you'll have no choice but to fulfill it. You'll be totally at the mercy of your commander." His smile turned sadistic, but he only shrugged with a lighthearted sigh. "If you all have the balls that a Gryffindor should and take the potion, this will be fun."

"You're full of shit, Weasley, there's no way that potion works." Angelina said with a calculative smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Fred knew it too as he faced her challenge.

"Oh no? Should we test it for them, George?"

"That we should, Fred." He jumped up beside his brother taking the bottle, swiping his index finger around the wet rim, and licking the potion off. Other than sucking his finger clean for an uncomfortably long time, nothing notable happened.

Fred's cruel smile made Hermione pity the naive, trusting George. "All finished? Why don't you go make out with our youngest brother, I dare you." He was already laughing at George's seized shoulders. Ron's eyes flew open as his brother turned to face him. Laughter and disgusted grunts filled the air, and Hermione suppressed giggles as Ron and George held each others' horrified gaze.

"Oh, fuck-" George yelled, his legs forcibly carried him forward. The crowd, including the girls surrounding Ron, parted for George and eagerly watched the scene unfold. Mumbling his disgust, Ron lurched to his feet and stumbled about drunkenly. It was only too easy for George to shove him back into the chair and lean forward, straddling his lap and grabbing his face. With fully aware and sharp eyes, he puckered his lips and descended on Ron.

A strangled squeak escaped Ron as he pushed his brother back with all of his might. He held his face back with one hand and his chest back with the other, but George was sober, stronger, and determined. His face drew closer with every movement. "Call him off! Call him off!" Ron shouted as he lost his hold, and George's lips crashed down onto his upper lip.

Hermione took in multiple disturbing things at once: cheers, laughter,. the word "ew" repeated loudly, and a sticky trail of slobber left on Ron's face as he thrashed his head from side to side trying to escape.

"Alright, George, that's enough! Down boy!" Fred called running to Ron's aid. George immediately froze and pushed himself off of Ron scrubbing at his mouth with his sleeve. Ron stood dusting himself off and rubbing his face onto his shirt. "Oh, yuck! What the fuck, Fred?" Ron and George grimaced at Fred and then at each other awkwardly moving to opposite ends of the space.

"Alright, now that we're all sure that it works, who's first? Truth or dare?" Fred glanced around at the many faces shaking the potion bottle. Hermione rolled her eyes. Who in their right mind would take that potion after watching that horror show? As she suspected, there were no takers, only quiet murmurs.

"Wait a minute... isn't that potion, well... isn't that like the imperius curse?" Neville asked. Hermione hadn't noticed him join until his voice sounded from the floor beside the chair where Ron had been. Lavender had reclaimed her spot on the chair's arm and was using Neville's shoulders as her own personal footrest. By the way he held onto the tops of her feet, he didn't seem to mind.

As soon as the comparison was made, the already unsure crowd appeared to scoot back from Fred. "Don't think of it that way! This is all in good fun! Unlike the imperius curse, this is a one and done deal. It only works the first time and only for a very short period of time before it wears off. Now, is it illegal? Probably, but nothing that happens here tonight leaves this room." He said holding his hands out to the group.

"Forget it. No one wants to play your demented game." Harry said eyeing the dark green potion bottle with suspicion. He'd drawn closer to Hermione in the chaos, so close that she felt his radiating body heat.

Looking around at the discomfited expressions around him, Fred sighed and decided to quit while he was ahead. "You lot are no fun at all." He mumbled and tucked the potion away taking a seat.

"Oh, I know! Why don't we play wizard poker? and instead of betting with money, losers take a shot?" Parvati said excitedly. This seemed an acceptable idea to most, even if Fred rolled his eyes.

"Good idea, but you know what's even better? Wizard _strip _poker." Lavender offered with a sly grin. Now _that _was an idea. Hermione couldn't help her quick glance in Harry's direction. He wore a baggy shirt that covered the muscles she knew to be present under the fabric. She'd never had the pleasure of seeing them for herself, but she felt them against her when she hugged him. When she'd made the discovery, she made sure to hug him much more frequently than ever before. Long, hard hugs that could be explained away. Of course she wasn't indulging in her creepy, hedonistic whims! She simply worried for and missed her friend!

She reigned her thoughts in and took one last glance at his face before looking away. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable at Lavender's suggestion. It made her realize she should be too and wasn't. Had she had enough alcohol to banish her typical hangups?

"Pass. Half my family's here." Ginny said looking over at her brothers who cringed when they looked back at her.

"Oh, right. Well I guess regular wizard poker could be fun."

"_Or_-" Romilda Vane spoke from her corner, demanding attention. "We could ditch the boys altogether and go down to the lake... _naked_." She leaned in conspiratorially and looked briefly at each girl in the group.

Hermione's sense returned for a moment in her initial rejection of the idea. What a ridiculous suggestion - high risk and little reward. Wouldn't it be humiliating to be caught naked outside where anyone could see? And if there would only be girls present and no possibility of getting to feast her eyes on Harry's physique, what was the purpose?

Not to mention the looming threat that continued to try to breech her train of thought. No, Ginny had been right to tell her not to think of troubling things. Snape was simply not a concern at the moment holed up in the dungeon waiting for her , and for the moment, she would give him no more thought than that. Mercifully, a chorus of complaints cleared her train of thought before it could convince her to stay put.

"Wait a minute, don't leave us out!"

"Yeah, we like to have our fun too!

"Why don't we all just ditch the Weasleys and go down together?"

"Hey! You bastards aren't going with them without us!"

"Sorry, I thought I'd made myself clear. Girls only."

Hermione watched Harry, who sat quietly watching the protests of the others. Though he didn't voice his opinion, he sat on the edge of the sofa and looked over Hermione at Ginny with a soft smile. She tried not to let that bother her. Was he imagining the redhead the way Hermione had let herself imagine him earlier that night? Ginny didn't notice his stare. She was too busy staring intently at Hermione. When Ginny's eyes met Hermione's, a teasing smile twisted her lips.

"Do you think maybe we should head up to bed?" Asked Ginny surprising Hermione. Her words did not match the playful look on her face.

"No, not yet. I have to admit I'm a little intrigued." She said before realizing she hadn't completed her thought. "By Romilda's idea, that is."

A strange look that appeared to house many emotions overtook Ginny's face: amusement, surprise, skepticism, maybe even suspicion. When finally she spoke, the words were lighthearted and happy.

"You never cease to amaze me, Hermione Granger."

* * *

Ice cold, inky black oblivion assaulted Hermione's senses. It was a cold so shocking that it burned like hot water. The instinct to scream was too strong to resist, and she inhaled water before she could stop herself. Her body jerked as she tried to expel the water only to be met with more water. Her limbs were heavy like lead and uselessly floundering about fighting the dragging sensation. Until her feet hit the sandy bottom.

She used it for leverage and propelled herself upward. She heard the sound of her own coughs and gags, felt the stinging protest of her lungs, throat, and nasal cavity before she realized she'd emerged from the water. Cold air stung her face, somehow colder than the water. She only vaguely registered the laughter and commentary of her peers.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, it's six feet deep! You'd have us believe you were drowning!" The mockingly scolding voice of Angelina Johnson stood out among the others. Hermione continued to splutter and wipe at her eyes until it occurred to her that she was, in fact, not drowning.

When finally she blinked and took in her surroundings, the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts were a brilliant and welcome sight. Compared to the dark nothingness underwater, the moonlight was like daylight.

"Move over, Granger, you're hogging the lake!"

This was all the prodding she needed to swim away from the pile of rocks, a makeshift diving floor. Even from several feet away, she was splashed by Romilda Vane's jump. Unlike Hermione, Romilda, Lavender, and Parvati waited until they resurfaced to scream their protests at the frigid water.

"Oh, get over it you bunch of whingers!" Angelina bellowed perched atop the highest boulder. She pulled her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself chilled by the breezy air.

"Easy to say when you're still dry!" Lavender shouted splashing water in her direction. The spray pelted her skin, and she flinched back.

"Hey!" She rose to her full height to bitch at them, but Katie Bell sneaked up behind her and shoved her from the rock and into the water. She emerged in time to see Katie dive in after her. "You're all dead, you hear me?" She splashed those nearest her indiscriminately. They laughed and splashed her back.

As loud as they were, the girls in the lake were easily ignored, for Hermione's attention was elsewhere.

She was watching Ginny undress behind the cover of a tree without realizing she was staring. She wasn't trying to, in fact, she'd seen Ginny naked numerous times. She knew that it should be strange and uncomfortable for her to be so blatantly interested in her friend stripping, but she couldn't look away. Her pale skin reflected the moonlight, and she almost seemed to glow angelically as she revealed more and more of her skin. Her deep red hair blew gently in the breeze and settled delicately around her slim shoulders.

Hermione sighed watching the girl's full breasts bounce as she took her bra off.

_Yes, purposefully watching Ginny take off her clothes is weird._

And were she sober, she'd be very embarrassed, but her lowered inhibition allowed her to be shameless, no matter how weird it was.

Ginny had such a nice body. She had a full, womanly shape and still managed to look dainty and sweet. With the soft curves of her bust and hips, she was what all the boys wanted, and she was the envy of all the girls. Even a year younger, she was already more developed than Hermione. She sighed again. No wonder Harry wanted Ginny. Hermione had seen him staring, though most likely subconsciously, at Ginny's chest through her tight button-down shirt.

And Ginny was quite oblivious to the attention he among others paid her. She'd carelessly sit cross-legged in a skirt and not notice the eyes of peeping toms drifting to her slender legs and slightly exposed inner thighs. They practically held their breath hoping she'd shift enough for them to glimpse what exactly was under her skirt. Of course, Harry wasn't such a pervert, but Hermione couldn't help but form the mental image of him in the lake beside her watching the girl undress with his tongue hanging out.

She huffed and turned her eyes down to her own body, submerged beyond visibility in the water. Why didn't boys look at_ her_ like that? More importantly, why didn't Harry? She didn't like to think of her own physique often, but she found her appearance to be perfectly acceptable. Sure, her breasts weren't large by any stretch of the imagination, but they were mostly even and proportional to the rest of her body. Maybe her hair was unmanageable, but it was unique. She was on the thin side, but her body was rounding where it should with time. She didn't dress to draw attention like some of the other girls, but neither did Ginny!

Her eyes narrowed at the unsuspecting girl, who'd turned her back to the lake putting her hair up and exposing a perfect, slender neck. As soon as she realized she was gazing bitterly at her friend, she frowned. She was allowing jealousy to plant ugly thoughts in her head about a girl who had been there for her when no one else was. And what's more, she shouldn't be dwelling on these silly, trivial thoughts that led her nowhere. Being jealous of Ginny wasn't likely to drive Harry into her arms, and dwelling on a hopelessly unrequited crush did her no good. She had bigger things to worry about.

Out of nowhere, she was shoved back underwater into the blackness. This time she had the good sense not to inhale, so when she reemerged, she was mostly unbothered. She could feel someone's skin against hers, a shoulder edging into her chest, and a loud voice at her ear. Lavender and Parvati were laughing and pulling on her hair and other parts of her drunkenly.

"You know, I defended you, but I think Ron's right. You're always so uptight! You need another drink!" Lavender said around a laugh.

As she steadied herself, Hermione realized just how much the alcohol had caught up to her. Her head felt fuzzy, her extremities tingled, and she was very aware of the buzzing sensation of her pulse. The world spun ever so slightly, and she had to close her eyes for the image of the girls to refocus. Somewhere in her mind, she registered that she'd been mildly insulted (and Ron had been speaking ill of her behind her back), but it would've taken focus and energy to be annoyed by it.

A giggle that she did not entirely approve of bubbled to the surface. "I've had plenty, but thank you for your concern." She hiccuped around the words and lightly pushed the girls away from her. Even aided by alcohol, she did not wish to be touched or hung all over while naked. At least not by current company.

She cast another quick glance over at Ginny guiltily. Instead of immediately joining everyone in the water - to hide her body as Hermione had - she was folding discarded clothes into neat piles for those who had simply thrown them into messy heaps. Hermione raised a puzzled eyebrow. She'd never taken Ginny for one obsessed with order or perfection. What was she doing?

She recognized her own carelessly discarded robe in Ginny's hands as she smoothed the wrinkles and patted at the fabric. She held it for a few seconds too long just staring at the it. She cast a quick glance around her before she brought it up to her face and sniffed it. Hermione's brows furrowed, and she felt her cheeks warm. When was the last time she'd washed her robe? It couldn't smell so bad that Ginny would sniff it in front of people, could it? How embarrassing!

Hermione was making a mental note to do her laundry first thing in the morning when Lavender blocked her view and forced her attention. "I stole my dad's cigarettes last time I saw him if you guys want to smoke." She said.

Of all the idiotic, trivial, pointless, ill-considered things to suggest...

But she did indeed have takers that followed behind her eagerly as she waded her way up to the shore.

Hermione wasn't drunk enough to find the appeal in it. She simply watched others join Lavender at the shore and pass around the carton she summoned from her robes. She was so busy watching puffs of smoke join together in wisps in the breeze that she didn't notice Ginny wading her way through the water toward her. Her body had adjusted to the cold water, but the sudden warmth of Ginny's presence was so acute that a shiver ran up her spine.

"I'm not dim enough to get in the water without a heating charm." She smirked at Hermione, who drew nearer to her warmth.

Hermione scrunched her nose. "It's not a very strong one. It feels warm for a few seconds and goes back to cold!"

A wry smile puckered Ginny's lips as she looked at Hermione. "That's because I only charmed my body, not the water around me. I hadn't planned on sharing, but I'd be happy to if you want to come a little closer." She batted her eyelashes teasingly.

With an uncomfortable shift away, Hermione giggled awkwardly and bit her lip. "I think we're close enough!" She chirped. Ginny had play-flirted with her before, but this was bold even for her! She moved back a little and stretched her arm out between them. "This is as close as I intend to get."

"Oh yeah?" Ginny swam toward Hermione, grabbing at her arms, her chest, her belly. Her toes brushed against the outside of Hermione's upper thigh, and she squealed and swam away. Ginny was faster. She wrapped her arms around Hermione, who thrashed and splashed chilled water onto her face. Ginny yelped in protest, releasing a giggly Hermione.

"So that's how you want to play it?"

"You started it!"

The calm play devolved into a full-force splash war, one that quickly gained others in the vicinity. Ginny cupped her hands full of water and threw it in Hermione's face before she could turn her head. Her reflexes were pathetically slow. She blinked through the water and splashed those around her at random rousing screams that shattered the calm of the night. A derogatory word, one she normally reviled and would give her pause, was tossed around as many focused their attentions on getting back at her.

Hermione rubbed the water out of her eyes and glimpsed the night through blurry vision. The breeze was blowing the cigarette smoke her direction, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell. How inconsiderate it was of those girls to expose everyone to secondhand smoke, but she could expect no less from Lavender. She never thought of anyone other than herself. And maybe Ron occasionally.

Something caught her attention through the swirling smoke and moonlight. It was a hazy speck of light flickering in the distance near the castle. She blinked, and it was gone. She rubbed at her eyes again squinting to catch sight of it, but all she saw was the black silhouette of the castle and its surrounding shrubbery. She sank back puzzled. The light was certainly vivid if it was her imagination.

_Thwack!_

"Ah!" Hermione cried softly and grabbed at her face. Her left eye stung and watered.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry! Are you okay?" Ginny said, and the splashing halted. She'd backhanded her hard mid-splash. Hermione blinked back tears and massaged her sore eye. "Merlin, sometimes I don't know my own strength! I'm a damn klutz! I'm so sorry!" Her voice quivered, and Hermione forced herself to focus.

"You're not a klutz. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I always seem to be with you." Hermione said around a smile. She didn't want Ginny to feel bad, but damn she'd gotten her good in the sensitive corner of her eye. It throbbed painfully, and Ginny was not fooled by her humor.

"Blimey, I hit you exactly wrong, didn't I? Maybe we should go inside. I have a salve that will keep it from bruising." She said with a soft smile. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I'm fine, really." She said with her own reassuring smile. Ginny was unsatisfied and pulled Hermione's hand from her face. The hand grasping her wrist scorched with the warming charm, but she didn't pull away.

"You're not fine. At least let me look at it. Look at me, can you open it?" She asked moving closer, her fingertips caressing the skin under Hermione's eye. Hermione blinked and stared back into warm brown eyes. Ginny was much too close, leaving only a few inches between them, and she leaned even closer to gaze into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione had the urge to squirm and move back. Nudity often made her uncomfortable, especially in close proximity to others. Ginny didn't share this aversion, and her grip on her wrist was tight and warm. _She _was so warm. The water was unbearably chilly anywhere she wasn't, and Hermione couldn't find the will to actually move away.

Ginny pursed her lips and blew into her eye. At this, she reflexively backed away. "What are you doing? How will that help?"

Before she could answer, Romilda Vane interrupted with a loud, haughty breath. "Why don't the two of you get a room? It's getting a little steamy over there for company, don't you think?" She said, and the little group around her laughed. Hermione looked at them, confused and regretting consuming any amount of alcohol. It made her slow and apathetic. She was sure she looked like an idiot with her head tilted too far to one side and clearly not quite comprehending what was happening around her.

"Piss off." Ginny mumbled under her breath and rolled her eyes irritably. She backed away and stood rigid and red-faced, looking anywhere but at Hermione. What strange behavior for a girl like Ginny. She never betrayed embarrassment or a lack of confidence, but there she stood awkward and uncharacteristically reserved. It was an interesting development to be filed away for thought. Frowning, Hermione looked between her and the other girls laughing at their expense.

"It doesn't matter what they think. _They're_ the ones watching us." Hermione said loud enough for them to hear and scoff at her words.

"If I did like girls, you'd be the last one I'd go after, Granger. Weasley might have low standards, but I certainly do not." Romilda said and tossed her stringy wet hair over her shoulder holding her head high, nose in the air. "Keep telling yourself that." Hermione smirked in their direction and winked teasingly at Romilda. Ginny's laughter seemed to ease her tense posture.

The sound of quick footsteps on rough ground halted all conversation. An unmistakably bright light, the same light Hermione had seen earlier, illuminated figures behind a cluster of trees. The girls on shore screamed and abandoned their cigarettes for the cover of the water or the rocks.

The figures darted through the shadows of the trees over to the abandoned stacks of clothes and scooped them up taking off with them. Devilish husky laughter mixed with screamed protests.

"Our clothes!"

"Our wands! They've got our wands!"

But as furious as many of the girls were, none ventured from their hiding spots as they watched the robed figures fleeing toward the castle. Ginny was shaking Hermione's shoulder trying to force her attention, but she just stared in a disheartened daze after the hefty, oafish figure that had snatched her clothes.

"Hermione, let's go inside, let's go!" She said in a hushed tone. Hermione's jaw clenched at the idea of having to streak across the grounds and through the castle up to Gryffindor tower. No amount of alcohol would make such a humiliating task seem okay to her.

A low, raspy chuckle echoed from behind the trees and a slender figure emerged with slow, deliberate steps. Hermione's stomach soured. Malfoy.

"Having fun?" He scoffed with a hateful glare at the group huddled in the water. "You're all dimmer than I thought, but it's to be expected from a bunch of Gryffindors." His eyes darted from face to face until they settled on Hermione. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled up smugly. For the briefest moment, his eyes flickered to Ginny, who relinquished her grip on Hermione's shoulders and put space between them.

Hot, fiery anger lit Hermione's gaze, and when he looked back at her, she refused to release his eyes.

"Give us our clothes back. _Now._" Angelina's voice was low but carried a demanding, threatening tone that silenced everyone. Hermione wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of those words, but it seemed by the alacritous expression on his face that Malfoy garnered some sort of sick pleasure from the exchange.

"Why don't you come and get them? No one is stopping you. Hell, we'll even do you the favor of leaving them right outside your common room entrance." He smirked at the fuming Angelina, then at Hermione and turned his back to them. "Back to your evening, then. Although I'd wrap it up if I were you. You've got about five minutes before Professor Snape rounds you all up and herds you to Dumbledore. I wouldn't know for sure, but this seems grounds for expulsion." With a final chuckle, he pranced off into the shadows after the others he'd come with.

All at once, everyone was talking over each other, panicked and distraught. Hermione knew had she taken one or two less drinks, she'd be in the middle of them placing blame and formulating a plan. Correction, she wouldn't have come out here in the first place. This was a stupidity that couldn't simply be attributed to foolish youthful shenanigans. No, not after the direction the day had turned, the choices she had made. This was self-destruction. Was she, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, trying to punish herself for what she'd done? Was Snape catching her at her most vulnerable, naked and without magic, and forcing himself on her a worthy punishment? The thought made her want to vomit.

Others were already reacting to Malfoy's revelation and abandoning the lake in pairs. Rather than panic, Hermione stood numb and motionless in the water taking everything in slowly. She was lightheaded, her thoughts muddled, and her ears ringing. Her vision blurred the running movements of those heading across campus to the castle's main entrance. More and more of the reluctant leftovers of the group were joining the streakers. The alternative of being caught by Snape was horrifying enough to usher even the most modest of them out into the open night.

The pressure to follow them - though her inclination was to stay put - made her heart leap up into her throat painfully. She knew her best bet was to follow after them. Standing motionless where Snape would easily be able to see her and get to her was a bad plan, but she was rooted in place, her limbs heavy like concrete once again. Unlike the others, her biggest concern was not expulsion if she was caught. Her humiliation and shame was not securing her in place. She was afraid. Fear suppressed all logical courses of action in favor of remaining still.

_If Snape catches me._..

The thought was chilling and confusing, wrapped up in uncertainty, dread, and guilt. She pictured his hands on her for only a moment before she shook her head to clear it and staggered drunkenly back. Even if she managed to face her fear and brave the run, could she even run without toppling over? The way her legs trembled beneath her light weight in the water was not encouraging.

But everyone was leaving! Already she was among stragglers fighting the water up to the shore, and the sounds of life were sucked from the air, leaving behind the eerie silence of a nightmare. She internally berated herself for allowing fear to consume her. What was she waiting for, all of the witnesses to leave? She needed to move, call for the others to wait for her, even if it did no good. Something. Anything.

"Hermione!" Ginny called from the shore. Hermione looked up to find her gesturing wildly for her to follow, but sounds from back near the castle grasped both of their attention. Hermione's stomach sank sickeningly.

Snape's impressive stature was easily distinguishable from the other shadows. His startlingly pale skin, made obvious by the moonlight, was visible even from a distance. He had stopped abruptly from a brusque trot, and the girls that had made it up to the castle where he was squealed in protest, scrambling to cover themselves and hide behind each other.

The moment he saw them, he turned his head away and buried his face in his arm to shield his vision. She couldn't hear his words, but he threw his other arm out furiously pointing toward the castle's entrance, and the girls didn't waste a second running up the stairs and out of sight. She envied them so fiercely that she swallowed too hard and felt her throat cramp up and spasm.

Snape glanced backward to be sure the others had gone and turned toward the lake. Hermione watched him intently, her heart thumping much too fast. She took a shaky breath and forced herself to stay calm. Without her wand, her rationality was the only strength she had to draw from.

Could he see her? It appeared to her as though he was staring unwaveringly in her direction, but he was far enough away that he could be staring broadly at the lake and night sky. Was he simply out to bust misbehaving students? It was possible he hadn't realized she was there and was simply coming to investigate as any teacher would. Or was he, as his earlier note to her dorm room seemed to suggest, overtaken by the lust potion?

She had neglected to meet his midnight deadline. Had he somehow known her whereabouts and come to claim her for their meeting? And what if he and she were here by coincidence, and he believed her to be hiding up in Gryffindor tower where she should be? What if he saw her now, naked and defenseless, and lost control?

As if in response to her thoughts, he started toward her with long, purposeful strides. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold water ran up her spine and her shiver jolted her forward. Her muscles twitched, the unbearable urge to run seizing them, but she remained solidly in place like a dear caught in headlights.

"Hermione! What the hell are you doing? Come on, you'll be seen!" Ginny gasped. The fear in the girl's voice inspired her own fear. If he came close enough for her to look into those piercing, midnight eyes, black and empty like pits, she'd be unable to contain her terror. It was all she could do to contain her building scream.

His every step brought the harsh angles of his face, tight with anger, into clear view. Surely he could see her now. Ginny looked frantic and shouted something, but Hermione missed it. She did not think. She reacted.

She plunged back into the inky black water. The moment she'd done it, she realized her mistake. The water stole all of her senses except for her ability to feel. And, oh, did she feel. The icy water stung her face, and the shock of the cold very nearly had her inhaling water again. She blinked instinctively, and the water burned her eyes. It was a strange sensation to have her eyes open and see nothing but black, hear nothing but the heaviness of the water and her thudding heartbeat. She was unseen, but she was vulnerable in an entirely new way.

She had no way of knowing Snape's whereabouts without her vision. Sure, he couldn't see her either, but she couldn't stay underwater for long. Not without her wand anyway. She cursed herself for leaving it in her robe pocket.

Digging her toes in the sand to ground herself, she began a slow, deliberate shift through the water fanning her hands out in front of her. If she could emerge somewhere with brush or near the forest, she may be able to escape. At the very least, she'd be able to hide and breathe. She estimated the bank near trees to be within about 300 feet. Her lungs were already burning, but the thought of giving her position away was unthinkable. Her wand, if only she had her wand!

She kicked herself forward, her heart thudding wildly against her ribcage. She hadn't a prayer of making it to the bank before she needed air.

No, she couldn't think that way. She had to keep going as far as she was able. Any distance she could put between herself and Snape would be an advantage, however slight. He would not have her without a fight.

The thought kept her moving forward slowly, bit by bit through suddenly thick, warmer water. She'd undoubtedly waded her way into an undisturbed part of the lake. Unpleasantly soft bits of what felt like some sort of plant life surrounded her, and she cringed away from the material, wanting nothing more than to evacuate the lake and never return. Her body was becoming impatient as it awaited air. She would need to resurface soon, only for a moment to catch her breath.

Her foot brushed roughly against something hard and slimy, freeing it from the sand. It slithered from the top of her foot, wrapped around her leg, and moved up to her knee and up her thigh. All thoughts of subtlety and stealth disappeared as she threw her limbs about her and thrashed.

She kicked her feet up trying to break the surface of the water, but whatever had her leg held her in place. Her head grew fuzzier. She could feel her eyes crossing beyond her control, and she felt a stabbing pain in her head. Drawing all of the her remaining energy, she used her unhindered foot to stand on the slithering culprit, and clawing at its slimy surface with her fingernails, she wrenched her body away and her leg free.

She sprang to the surface with a splash gulping air. She looked wildly around her only to find that she'd made it a short distance from where she'd been. Disappointment and dread settled over her and made her body feel especially heavy.

Until she looked up and met cold, black eyes.

Snape stood at the shore leaning nonchalantly against the boulder the girls had jumped from, his arms folded and head inclined down toward her, hair falling into his face. Although he bore the mask of his usual controlled annoyance, he'd never looked so relaxed. The soft edge to his usually harsh features gave the impression that he could be falling asleep. And yet, when she looked into his eyes glittering in the moonlight, he was staring back at her with an intensity that radiated power and dominance. And something else. Something close to intrigue. Hermione forbade herself to think the glint in his eye may be excitement. That thought wouldn't help her stay calm.

His looked over what little of her was above water: her face, neck, shoulders, and collar bone. She'd never felt more naked, more exposed, more vulnerable in her life. She was grateful for the opacity of the water and the cover of night, but at the same time, she felt trapped and helpless to move. There was nowhere to go but back under.

Silence stretched between them uninterrupted while they appraised one another. Snape's eyes searched Hermione's, giving none of his thoughts away. She was sure he was reading the fear written plainly on her face. She broke eye contact for only a second to scan for any sign of Ginny. There was none, and with a sinking feeling and fresh panic, she realized Ginny must've run off like the others. Hermione truly was alone, far from the castle, trapped here with Snape, no witnesses.

His pose no longer looked relaxed to her, rather, his folded arms and focused gaze appeared taunting, daring her to try to pull a fast one on him.

"You thought you'd escape my notice." Snape said and startled Hermione. The silence had been unnerving, but the deep timbre of his voice was worse. His voice was warm, smooth, surprisingly soft, but she flinched as if he'd shouted. She'd never heard him speak in such tones. The way he purred the words with a suggestive lull on every few syllables sent an unwelcome warmth through her body up to her face. She'd have preferred him shouting at her.

"You either underestimate me, or overestimate yourself. Either way, you've miscalculated." His words were angry, but his voice was silky and inviting. Hermione leaned toward the sound ever so slightly before righting herself, astounded by her response. Snape's sharp eyes didn't miss her shift, and his lip curled up at the corner.

"I assume you received my note. You missed our meeting, but it appears you had a more _important_ engagement." His eyes slid slowly from her face down to where her chest met the water. Though she was sure he could see nothing beneath the water, she folded her arms across her chest, protecting what little modesty she had left. His smirk grew, his eyes glinting with mirth. "Skinny-dipping? An uncharacteristic preoccupation, I daresay. Tell me, is this your way of handling the imbroglio you've caused, or are you just acting out?" He paused to allow her to speak.

She only frowned at him with discontent. This was not the Snape she knew, the stern teacher who maintained careful control, who's boundaries were clear and uncrossable. This Snape was so light, so... triumphant. The man at the shore was too at ease, his gaze too intense, the slightest bit of eagerness detectable even from her distance. He was standing still, but his fingers twitched, the skin over his knuckles was stretched tight with strain. or restraint. His sallow skin brightened with the warm color of a spreading flush.

He was poised on the balls of his feet like a predator ready to spring at any moment. As a master manipulator, these are things that Snape would've suppressed and hidden from her were he fully in control of himself. Were she sober, the wheels in Hermione's mind would be turning steadily, searching for a way to escape. The alcohol-induced spinning had picked up to a point where she felt the need to lie down, her lightheadedness beginning to feel close to the sensation of passing out.

She had a horrible feeling that he wasn't going to let her leave. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into her bedroom up in the safety of Gryffindor tower and never come out.

When she said nothing, Snape continued. "If I had to guess, I'd venture to say it's a bit of both, though Merlin knows what you have to act out against." He rolled his eyes, and for a moment, the familiarity eased Hermione's nerves.

"It looks as though you were flaunting your freedom to do as you please in complete disregard of those whose lives you've upheaved. I envy your ability to cast your troubles aside for a night of frivolity." He said, his voice growing quieter until it was a mere whisper. "I only wish you weren't so brazen about it." Anger furrowed his brow, and he stood straight and unfolded his arms as though he was deciding whether or not to move toward her.

"No!" Hermione squeaked a little too loudly for the appeasing tone she was going for. "No, t-that's not what I was doing, I mean, I was-"

"You were what, Miss Granger?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

She watched him at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to speak, hoping the right words would come to her and knock him from the lust potion's grasp. She had no explanation, no words that would make what she'd done to him okay, no eloquent, persuasive tongue that would prevent what was surely coming. She stood with her mouth gaping like a drunken fool and hated herself for it.

"Convincing." Snape's sarcastic tone was biting, but humor was returning to his countenance. "You are beyond comparison. Poisoning me with your lust potion, as reckless and idiotic as it was, is one thing. Maybe even forgivable. It is another thing entirely to leave yourself alone, unprotected, and entirely exposed for my taking. You know well the state you've put me in. " His eyes roamed over what little of her skin was showing, his voice disturbingly alluring. "For a bright girl, that was incredibly stupid. If I didn't know better, I'd believe it was purposeful."

He took a step forward and Hermione blanched. Her heart leapt back into her throat, and adrenaline pulsed like ice through her veins. Following his lead - and without triggering his pursuit - she took a single step back. The movement made her already dizzy head whirl and would've unbalanced her had she not been in the water.

"Were you trying to tempt me to come out here after you? If that was indeed your goal, you've succeeded. Here I stand at your mercy." He approached the edge of the shore where the water lapped at his boots. He stretched his arms out at both sides, offering himself to her. "Will you come out of the water?"

Hermione made no move toward the shore. But of course she didn't! The prospect was repellant to say the least. If anything, she was tensing her muscles to swim further out into the abyss-like water away from the man. She couldn't believe he was speaking to her like this. Even under the influence of the lust potion, she would've expected Snape to retain some semblance of control.

He'd told her himself that he was fallible. She'd heard the warning and hadn't headed it. Maybe she hadn't believed him when he'd said it, but as she stared at his open arms and chest heaving with excitement, she knew exactly how overpowering a potion could be. At the end of the day, no matter how strong Snape was, he was only a man. There was something very disarming about the realization.

When, again, words evaded her, Snape became impatient.

"Are you going to come out, or are you going to make me come in after you? Because I must admit, the thought of chasing you down excites me." His lips curled up in a sinister smile. His mouth was watering, his teeth glistening. He licked his bottom lip to keep from drooling.

Hermione could not contain the shiver that ran down her spine. So disturbed was she, her grip on her thoughts and emotions was slipping. The thought of him hovering over her, hands running down her body, forcing himself inside of her took over her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she quickly blinked them back holding tightly to her composure.

Snape's wide eyes were on her as he lowered his arms, his hands slinking up to the top buttons of his shirt. He slowly undid the first one, then the second, watching eagerly for her reaction.

"Professor!" She cried breathlessly, demanding his attention though she already had it. She looked at him pointedly, insisting he accept the gravity of the word she'd spoken. She was his student. He was supposed to protect her. "Please stop!"

She had very little faith that her words would mean anything to him now, but she had to try to snap him out of it. There wasn't much else she could do.

"You don't really want me, Professor, you're under the influence of the lust potion. If you give into it, you'll regret it. You know you will. You'll-You'll -" Hermione struggled for words. Snape waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts, intrigued by her words.

"You'll... You'll hurt me! I-I don't want to... to do anything physical with you. And you wouldn't want to do it with me either if you hadn't taken my lust potion! You have to fight it!"

Snape's deep, mocking chuckle dashed any hope Hermione had of getting through to him.

"Hermione," He said softly. "You're suppressing what comes naturally to you. Maybe in your mind you believe it's wrong to be with me. Maybe you fear what others would think. But no one is here but the two of us. You don't have to pretend with me." He said and slipped a bare foot out of one of his boots. He was slowly stripping down, article by article, to get in the water with her.

"Pretend what!" Hermione yelled to distract him, if only for a moment. He stopped what he was doing long enough to answer her.

"I know you desire me, or at least your body does. Maybe even to the extent that I desire you." He said, watching her surprised reaction with satisfaction. "Don't bother protesting. Your body defies you. It has revealed to me more than your words could. When you were with me in the classroom, the way your body moved against mine-" He stopped mid sentence and grabbed at his crotch, readjusting his trousers. "You wanted me then, and even if you don't know it yet, you want me now." He kicked off his other boot and sighed as he dug his toes in the sand.

His swift removal of superficial clothing made it abundantly clear that he was coming in after her. With a sickening roll of her stomach and a pounding heart, she prepared herself to return to the black depths of the water.

"Professor-" Hermione started one last time with tears pooling in the corners of her eyes and spilling over, but Snape shushed her.

"You don't have to worry, my dear. I assure you, you are in good hands. I'll do things to you that will make you beg to have me inside of you." His hands trailed down to the zipper of his trousers and the sharp sound of it sliding down made Hermione jump slightly. "And I will gladly oblige. Come to me and let me show you." He beckoned her with one hand and reached inside of his trousers with the other. Hermione took a deep breath ready to sink back into the water and disappear from sight.

"What's goin' on out here?" Hagrid's booming voice interrupted the silence of the night. Snape's head whipped in Hagrid's direction and a low, growl-like sound rumbled in his chest.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, both a cry for help and a warning. Snape's furious glare at Hagrid's approach did not bode well for the lovable, unsuspecting half-giant.

"Hermione?" He said squinting as he sauntered over from the trees distantly surrounding his hut. He was dressed in his usual ragged clothing, but with the addition of a heavy winter coat and unidentifiable animal skins over his shoulders.

"What are yeh doin' out here so late? Oh!" He stopped as he took in Snape's slightly crouched form. He'd hastily refastened his garments and regarded Hagrid with a forced look of indifference. Hermione could see the hateful glint in his eye as he sized Hagrid up. In a physical fight, Hagrid could crush Snape's skull with one hand, but Hagrid wouldn't have a prayer against Snape's magic.

"Oh, good evenin', Professor. I suppose you heard the screamin too? Could hear it from the middle of the forbidden forest." He said with a suspicious side glance at Hermione. Hermione could feel his eyes on her, but she never looked away from Snape, whose attention was solely on Hagrid.

Snape cleared his throat quietly. "Yes, apparently some students deem it appropriate to go for a swim past curfew. Most of them ran off when I arrived, but it seems Miss Granger had the wherewithal to stay and face retribution."

"Oh. So Hermione's in trouble, is she?" Hagrid sounded wary as he spoke.

"That is still to be determined. As soon as she comes out of the water, I will escort her to the Headmaster's office to discuss a fair punishment." The way Snape spoke the words with haste was a clear dismissal for Hagrid, but Hagrid lingered, looking between Snape and Hermione. Snape's forehead wrinkled with annoyance and impatience.

"Oh... well, forgive me fer sayin, but I don't know if it's fair ter punish jus Hermione when it was a whole group of students involved. She was the only one who did the honorable thing and stuck around ter admit her mistake. Maybe go easy on her this time and let her go." Hagrid offered with an empathetic look in Hermione's direction.

"As I've said, it will be discussed." Snape narrowed his eyes, daring him to argue further. "I am handling the situation. It is no concern of yours. You may return to... whatever it was you were doing before." He eyed the fresh animal skins on his shoulder with disgust.

Hagrid frowned. "Hold on, now, Hermione's a good kid, and her being treated fairly is my concern. I don't know why she's out after curfew, but she deserves a chance ter tell her side of the story." Hagrid stood firmly facing Snape, and Snape's mask was melting into the ferociously angry man she'd seen at Hagrid's approach. Hermione wrapped her arms around her torso and dug her nails into the skin of her arms. What exactly was Snape capable of? What would he be willing to do to get to her?

She quickly found out. As Hagrid looked back at his hut, Snape's hand gripped his wand tightly, barely within view. If Hagrid got hurt because of her careless stupidity -

"Hagrid! Look out!" Hermione yelled. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, Snape and Hagrid were both staring at her, Snape's hand buried in his pocket.

His stringy hair was a mess like he'd shaken his head vigorously. His eyes were wide, a look of distraught astonishment clear on his face for the briefest moment before he reeled himself back in. He straightened his shoulders, and he settled into his usual formal and stern state. No trace of the furiously territorial or flirtatious, sexually explicit Snape could be found.

He breathed deeply and straightened his shirt. "Very well. _You_ deal with her." Without another glance at Hermione or Hagrid, Snape whisked away toward the castle, the wind fluffing his hair as he nearly ran across the grounds.

"Strange." Hagrid grunted thoughtfully. While Hermione watched Snape make his way all the way back to the castle and disappear inside of it, Hagrid was watching her closely. "Are yeh alright?"

Hermione's heart was still pounding, the tears still falling, her head still spinning. She didn't trust her voice, so she just nodded and discreetly wiped her tears.

Hagrid was not convinced. "Hm... Well, come out of the water, then, before yeh catch a cold. It's freezin' out here." He said and waited for her to follow orders. She sniffled and looked down at the water avoiding his gaze. "I can't. I'm not wearing any clothes."

Hagrid, as kind and understanding as ever, shed his bulky coat, placed it on the boulder, and gave her a moment alone to make herself decent. The coat was made of some unidentifiable, itchy material, probably hand-made, and it draped around her like a shag carpet, but she couldn't remember a time she'd felt cozier. Hagrid's body heat had warmed it, and the cover it provided made her feel some sense of security.

He led Hermione to his hut where he fixed her a steaming cup of tea and a lumpy rock cake. He set her a place in front of the fire to warm up, and she set her mind to sobering up. She consumed the goods silently, ignoring her stomach's rolling protest. Hagrid sat across from her watching her and draining his mug of beer. If he had intended to question her about what had happened, he'd decided against it. Maybe he'd sensed she didn't want to talk about it or sensed her need for quiet contemplation.

"Yeh'd best be gettin' back to Gryffindor tower. It's gettin' mighty late." He said after an hour of silence had passed. The idea of walking anywhere at Hogwarts alone with Snape present was so horrifying that she couldn't contain her shudder.

"Please don't send me away, Hagrid. Can't I stay with you?" She begged pitifully, her eyes nearly welling with fresh tears. This took Hagrid off guard, and he regarded her seriously.

"Yeh can't stay with me, Hermione, it's not proper."

"Please?" She mashed her lips together and bit back a sob. A few moments passed while Hagrid searched Hermione's eyes.

"I suppose I could sleep out in the pumpkin patch. The hay piles make a right perfect napping spot."

"No! Stay with me. Please. I..." She looked at the dusty floorboards and exhaled slowly. "I don't want to be alone."

Hermione couldn't remember if he'd put up some protest. She only remembered watching him fall asleep in his rickety wooden chair and listening to his snoring. She crawled without invitation into his unmade bed and curled up with his jacket and comforter crying herself to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **To answer the question about the timeline, for the purposes of this story, Percy is a transfiguration apprentice. That's why he is still at Hogwarts. He chose to stay in Gryffindor tower rather than receive his own quarters to 'watch over' everyone.

I'll admit, some of the characters (Fred and George) in this story should've graduated by now since Hermione is a sixth year, but since this was my first Harry Potter fan fiction, I couldn't stand to part with any of the characters! I just removed a year from those characters to keep them. As for any other questions, well, you'll have to read on to find out ;) thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Keep sharing your thoughts with me!

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Hermione knew she was dreaming. The familiar confusion and the foggy, shifting backgrounds gave it away, but it didn't stop her from reveling in the bliss of the moment. Distantly, she noted that she was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, cleared for ballroom dancing.

She was in someone's embrace, moving slowly around the room, too close to the body against her to see anything but the blackness of his coat. With one of his hands gripping hers and the other at the small of her back, he had her trapped. Her movements were dictated by his, but it didn't bother her.

He was rocking her back and forth, swaying at a rhythmic, soothing pace. She gripped broad shoulders, and her hands trailed down to grip muscled arms.

"Harry." She murmured and closed her eyes as she rested her head onto his chest, breathing in his scent. She'd had this dream numerous times in varying forms. In these dreams, she was able to touch and feel Harry the way she never could in real life, and he welcomed her with open arms.

She longed to look into the sparkly green eyes that always made her heart skip a beat. She wanted to run her fingers through his wild hair and feel the soft skin of his cheek against her lips.

She tried to move back, to look up and appraise him, but something blocked her movement. He released her hand and brought his own hand up to cup the back of her head. He ran long fingers gently through her curls, and Hermione leaned into the touch with a soft moan.

She felt so safe in Harry's embrace as he cradled her and massaged her scalp. Something about the body against hers simply felt right, like she'd been starved for human intimacy until he gave it to her.

Nobody held a candle to him or the sweet and bubbly feelings he inspired within her. She bit her tongue to contain the butterflies that threatened to manifest spastically. As much as she enjoyed simply being held by him, she couldn't help imagining him tilting her back and snagging a kiss from her.

If this dream followed the pattern of her previous ones, he should make this move any moment and send a thrill through her powerful enough to wake her. She never appreciated the disruption of such an indulgent fantasy, but she couldn't muster up the self-control to simply enjoy the moment.

He looked dashing in formal attire, but all she could think of was removing his clothing and paying proper respect to his body. If he'd loosen his grip, in every conceivable way she'd unleash on him the passion she felt. She was his to command, his every whim her mission to fulfill.

"Oh Harry..." Her voice was a wanton whisper, one that should have embarrassed her but only seemed to encourage her forward behavior. This was a dream, and this Harry would never reject her for expressing herself. Even if what she was expressing was strange and overwhelming.

Harry brought the two to an abrupt halt in their swaying and held her completely still. Nerves that could only belong to the realm of reality filled her. He wouldn't reject her. He _couldn't! _This was the one place she could truly have her way. Was it to be taken from her and make her dread dreaming of him?

Again, she tried to look up, but he firmly pressed her head against his chest.

"Wayward girl." He whispered.

She froze. That deep, beckoning whisper wasn't Harry's. Hermione inhaled sharply and tried to pull away, but she was stuck in place by the hands that held her.

"Let me go!" She said, but her voice gave out, nothing but a mere squeak.

"Ah." Snape sighed as Hermione's body drew closer to his of its own accord. Her leg lifted up and hitched around his upper thigh as though he'd summoned it. The hand at her back slithered around to hold her leg in place. He dug his nails into her flesh and jiggled the fat of her ass, chuckling. Hermione felt the rumbling in his chest against her cheek and tried fruitlessly to squirm away. He only tightened his grip on her.

"I don't know why you keep trying to fight this." His fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her head back gently.

His smoldering gaze pierced through her fear and muddled her thoughts. There was none of the harshness that usually lit Snape's face. The angry lines around his eyes and mouth were barely visible with the softness of his expression.

He leaned in closer. Hermione tried to move back, but the hand at her thigh gripped her firmly.

Snape's eyes softened as he regarded her. "I know I haven't shown you my better side, but I am not an entirely selfish man." Slowly, so as not to startle her, he leaned in closer. Hermione wanted to back away from his grasp, but she couldn't look away from his disorienting stare. She felt his lips at her chin, and much like he'd done in the classroom, he feathered kisses across her jawline. She stiffened, and before she could fully register it, his lips were at her ear.

"Just tell me what you desire, and I will do it for you"

It was all she could do to remember to breathe.

Hermione felt warmth at her ear as he took it gently between his teeth and lapped at it. Her shoulders seized and her breath caught at the feel of his velvety tongue on her skin. His hot breath washed over her neck and shoulders, and she bit her tongue to contain a moan.

"I-I-I want you to stop." Hermione's voice was a breathy, shaky gasp as he took her earlobe into his mouth and sucked. The hand at her thigh had started to creep upward, but her words stopped him. He released her entirely, holding his hands up in surrender. Hermione's eyes were wide, but not just because he actually listened to her.

Her body clung to his, her leg hooked tightly around his hip. He was no longer forcing himself on her, so why wasn't she running, throwing herself violently to the ground to get away from him, or even just letting go of him? She was baffled by her response, but Snape seemed unsurprised.

He was smug and haughty, and he brought a hand to lightly trace the contour of her cheek. "You don't say those words with much conviction. I must've already gotten inside your head." His lips curled at the corners. "I understand if you're embarrassed to admit that you like this."

He brought the other hand up and cupped her face in both hands. "You need not say a word. I need no encouragement to continue. If this-" He gripped her face tighter and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip. "-is what you want, say nothing." He whispered and leaned closer.

His eyes gleamed as he held her gaze, coming closer and closer, invading her space. She thought to speak, but the words to stop him were trapped in her throat. His face was so close nearly touching hers, and he brought his lips to hers.

And out of nowhere, she felt nothing. He surrounded her like he was her own elongated shadow, but his presence left no impression on her. She breathed deeply and waited for some sensation to hit her.

Nothing.

But this was confusing. She was sure she'd just felt him there, anxiously anticipating what he may do to her next. And she found herself wondering... what _was_ he going to do to her? The thought should be horrifying to her, but for reasons unknown to her, it wasn't.

She squinted at the figure against her and moved into him to prompt some reaction. He was frozen over her with his eyes closed like he'd fallen asleep.

Hermione frowned. Frustration at the unresponsive man against her furrowed her brow, and this confused her further. A curiosity - one not to be entertained - overtook her, and she reached up to touch his face.

In a blink, Snape and the Great Hall were gone. She opened her eyes to Hagrid's hut bathed in morning sunlight. The familiarity of the rugged room surprised her. How had she gotten there? Where was Hagrid? A quick glance around confirmed that she was alone. With a stab of guilt, she realized she had claimed his bed last night. Had she chased him off with her imposition?

That's right. She'd indulged in last night's 'festivities.' She wouldn't be doing that again, lesson learned. She looked down at herself, assessing the damage. She'd obviously tossed and turned fiercely in her sleep, because the comforter and pillows were strewn around the bed. Other than Hagrid's sheets wrapped tightly around her, she was scandalously without clothes. And in Hagrid's bed... naked.

She loathed to think that because of her choices, someone could walk in now, discover her like this, and attribute it to a grievous fault in Hagrid. The thought had her sinking lower into the bed trying to hide from the world. Poor Hagrid. Surely he'd seen more of her last night than he'd ever wanted, and she couldn't even feel humiliated because she just felt bad. Bad bad bad!

While she laid there lost in thought staring at the ceiling, a flood of memories rushed back to her mind. Last night. Drinking. Skinny-dipping. Snape. The image of his face, particularly his smoky, black eyes, was etched in her brain. She could see him looking at her lecherously, a predator spying his prey, behind her eyelids. The flair of his brow portrayed a certain decisiveness, a confidence in what he was doing that hadn't been there before. That was what scared her the most.

In her mind, the villainous image of Snape morphed into the confusing, suave Snape from her dreams. The feeling of his absolute control of her body, his skin on hers, and the sex appeal that seemed to roll off of him in waves numbed any discontent she may have felt. But it also sparked a separate, blooming uneasiness.

She longed to deny it, but her body had responded to the subconscious depiction of Snape. She didn't have to reach down and touch herself to feel the sticky wetness between her thighs oozing onto Hagrid's sheets. What was was wrong with her? How, after what had happened last night, could her mind force such a dream onto her? It was vile! It was sick! It was-

She sat up a little too quickly, and the world shifted. Vertigo slammed into her and knocked her back into Hagrid's fluffy pillows. Her head pounded, her stomach rolled sickeningly, and a soft groan escaped her. The awful leftover taste of fire whiskey had soured in her mouth overnight and made holding the contents of her stomach difficult.

_This! This feeling right here!_

She screamed inwardly.

_This is why we don't drink! _

This was at the bottom of a long list of reasons she promised herself to never drink again. She couldn't believe the levels of stupidity she'd sunken to last night. And for what? A halfhearted distraction from her troubles? A night of 'fun?' What fun could possibly have been worth what could've happened to her? If Hagrid hadn't shown up...

No. Allowing herself to think down that path wasn't productive.

She sat up, slowly this time, and took in her surroundings. Hagrid's little living space was tight even for her. She couldn't imagine a giant trying to make it work, but he did, messily. The room was filled with what looked like 'works in progress' carved items, abandoned dirty dishes, piles of shaggy laundry, and a half eaten breakfast.

Hermione frowned. She wished Hagrid would return, so she could apologize and explain away her lack of judgment, but part of her was glad that she didn't have to deal with it at the moment. She had thinking to do. Hard, uncomfortable thinking that she'd really rather put off.

She stood hugging the sheet to her chest and searched for something other than a sheet to wear. She vividly remembered Malfoy and his cronies snatching her clothes and -

"Not my wand..." She whispered, raking her fingers through her tangled hair. If she felt bare without her clothes, she felt damn skinless, raw, and vulnerable without her wand. While she knew a few wandless spells, her magic was nowhere near as strong or malleable without it. If Snape came after her again -

She shuffled over to the window and cautiously peered behind the curtain up at the castle. She half expected him to be standing there waiting for her, but that was illogical. No need to panic, no need for heart palpitations. The grounds were silent and vacant, probably because it was much too early to be awake.

Her warm bed was calling, but she couldn't venture up to the castle just yet. She'd have to wait for witnesses, students to be milling about enjoying their Saturday, just in case Snape lay in wait ready to pounce. Did he know she was there?

No, no, he mustn't, or wouldn't he have come to claim her? On the other hand, he had snapped out of it after a terrifying exchange and Hagrid's appearance. Maybe he'd found it in him to contain himself. She could only hope this was the case. Without her wand, she was as good as his without a fighting chance.

Rather than sit and dwell on things that couldn't be helped, she busied herself how she could, cleaning Hagrid's hut. It was the least she could do for stealing his bed and making a liability of herself. All of his furniture was coated in a thick layer of dust, his fabrics visibly dirty, the rug well-trodden, and the air musty.

She gathered the sheets around her and tied them securely before shrugging on one of Hagrid's plump fur coats. With the makeshift ensemble and her hair an absolute rat's nest piled in tangled clumps around her shoulders, she was grateful Hagrid had no mirrors to clean. But she was at least dressed.

She set to work on his dishes first, snacking and making tea in between washes. Without her wand, she was back to laboring by hand, but there was something oddly comforting about it. The rhythm of the task was a much better distraction than alcohol ever could be, and she even found herself humming quietly.

With the dishes and counter clean and orderly, she followed the haphazardly discarded laundry trail to a sloppy pile in the corner of the room. She hesitated for a moment. Would Hagrid want her routing around in his dirty laundry, even to help clean? it seemed invasive to touch a man's soiled garments, especially after sleeping in his bed uninvited.

With a shrug, she decided he probably wouldn't mind and filled a large laundry bucket with sudsy water. Scrubbing his clothes elbow deep in dirty water, she felt sad for Hagrid. He had to do things like this all of the time magic free. No wonder his place was such a mess!

And what sense did it make to assign groundskeeping work to the only wizard around who wasn't allowed magic? An all day project he could do by hand would take Hermione little time and effort to do magically, but you'd never hear a complaint from him about it. He seemed genuinely happy to be of service at Hogwarts in any way he could. She smiled down at the water as she worked, thinking on how she'd like to be more like Hagrid.

A loud thump against the wooden door scared the very warmth from Hermione's body, and she covered her mouth to muffle her squeal. She was on her feet in a flash, standing frozen, waiting for the intruder to open the door. Her mind immediately jumped to Snape, but he did not barge in and make his presence known. Was it Hagrid?

Then she heard irritable squawking and another thump against the door, and she released the breath she was holding in relief. She cracked the door open, attempting to be cautious, but the owl rammed itself at her and forced its way in.

"Ouch! Stupid bird!" She mumbled as it dropped a package at her feet and flew away. She secured the door before eyeing the small, white box apprehensively. The last couple of deliveries had been unexpected and unwanted. Gifts from an 'unknown someone.' As subtle as Snape seemed, roses and expensive lingerie were anything but.

Word had surely spread of her inappropriate 'secret admirer' by now. At least this time, the sender was conscientious enough to wait until she had privacy.

Biting her lip, she stooped to retrieve the box only to stare at it for another long moment. It wasn't large enough to be more lingerie, but it was too large to reasonably contain jewelry. Unless-

She jiggled the box and heard a soft 'clank.' She lifted the lid, exposing a silver necklace with a modest little blue stone set in a mesh of overlapping wire. It shimmered in the light, and Hermione was struck by its beauty. Another extravagant purchase.

_Harry..._

As she stared at the glistening stone, it was only too easy to delude herself with images of Harry going to Gringotts, taking out a large amount of money - crumbs to him - and hand picking something he thought she'd love just to see the smile on her face. The thought was intoxicating, vibrant, pulsing through her, urging her to pick up the necklace. Her fingertips hovered over the stone.

_No!_

She dropped the box, and it clattered to the floor barely containing the necklace. She rushed to replace the lid before she could glance at the mesmerizing stone again. Even covered, the irresistible pull of the magic beckoned her like a whisper inside her mind.

_Open the box. Open the box. Try it on._

She kicked it under Hagrid's bed, and the spell released her. This had Snape's handiwork written all over it, dark and dangerous as it was. Whoever had sent it wanted to control her, that much was clear. If she hadn't been vigilant and touched the necklace, would she have marched right to the dungeons and offered herself up to him?

She looked between Hagrid's bed and the door wondering what she should do. Could she rush to the lake, chuck the box, and make it back without risk?

The sounds of voices and laughter in the distance permeated the little hut, and Hermione returned to the window. The school's inhabitants were waking up and creating her path to a hassle-free trip to the lake and the castle, but still she wasn't sure she felt safe.

Biting her lip, she looked back at the bed like it was out to get her. Of course, she knew as long as the box stayed safely concealed, no one would even know it was there. It could wait until the grounds were more crowded. Her eyes shifted to the unfinished laundry, and her mind was made up. She couldn't just leave her chores half done like this. She would finish what she'd started, and that was that. Maybe Hagrid would return by the time she'd finished, and he could walk her back to Gryffindor tower.

She worked steadily and put most of her focus into doing it efficiently. The bit of her attention that wasn't dedicated to her work was on the noises around the hut. She would not allow herself to be taken off guard again, so she cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder at the window every so often. The morning sunlight brightened to afternoon, and with it came more voices. Louder voices.

The first voices she heard right outside of the door made her jump, and she very nearly broke Hagrid's favorite mug. Hagrid apparently had more to deal with than an unwanted drunk girl in his bed. It seemed he was the subject of pranksters. Judging by the sounds that came from around the hut, students were pelting the walls with some sort of hard objects. Vandals. Under different circumstances, Hermione would've been the first to chase them off. Instead she waited for the sounds to stop and continued her sweeping.

She'd tidied the place up quite nicely when a purposeful knock on the door scared the life out of her once again. The voice that followed wasn't comforting enough to ease her nerves.

"Hermione, are you in there?" Ron asked loudly. It took Hermione a moment to thaw before she cracked the door.

She should've expected Harry to accompany him, but his presence surprised her and stole her words away. She slammed the door in their faces and then cursed herself for doing it, but she couldn't let Harry see her in this state, wrapped in large, sweaty sheets, unshowered, and unkempt. Even just briefly glancing at Harry brought a flood of feelings and memories to the front of her mind, and her heart thudded uncomfortably.

"What have you done that for?" Ron protested irritably.

"H-How did you know I was here?" She asked with her back against the door. If they knew she was here, who else did?

"Hermione, open up. We've got your wand and clothes." Harry said. Even the sound of his voice brought a blush to Hermione's cheeks. It reminded her of her dreams, of being in his arms, touching him, and being touched by him. And last night's demented version of that dream...

Unable to speak, she opened the door enough to stick an arm out and wait to be handed her items. With her wand back in her possession, she gripped it tightly and stroked the rough wood. Never again would she even take a shower without it next to her.

"How did you get these? and How did you know I was here?" She asked behind the door as she cast cleansing charms over herself and started to dress.

"Hagrid told us you might still be here, and we thought you might, er, need clothes." Harry said with a chuckle in his voice.

"It's a good thing Snape caught those Slytherin bastards and returned your things." Ron said, catching Hermione's attention. "It's gotta be the only good thing he's done."

"Wait a minute-" Hermione, now fully dressed, secured her hair in a bun and threw the door open. "Snape returned our clothes? What happened?" She looked between the two of them. Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at her, smiling playfully.

"Why don't _you _tell _us, _since you've got the interesting side of the story. Word is Malfoy and the rest ambushed you and had Snape bust you." Ron said.

Hermione really didn't want to think about what had happened, much less discuss it with Ron in front of Harry. "Yep, that's pretty much what happened."

This answer was apparently unsatisfactory, and really she should've prepared herself to answer questions. She just hadn't expected it from Ron and Harry, who usually paid more attention to the dinner table or the quidditch field than to her.

"Come on, Hermione, give us _something_. Normally we can't get you to shut up when interesting things happen." Ron huffed. "When you didn't come back with the others, everyone was sure Snape had caught you, so what-"

"Ron-" Hermione snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose irritably. "Snape never even saw me. I know that probably disappoints you, but nothing interesting happened. I didn't want to walk all the way back without clothes, so Hagrid let me stay here. Happy?"

"How can you say that? I didn't want you to get in trouble, I only wanted to know-"

"Well, now you know-"

"Hermione!" Harry raised his voice over the two before they lost themselves in an argument. Hermione perked, looked into his eyes, blushed, and backed down.

"What?" She didn't like the stern way he was appraising her.

"We didn't just come here for you. Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.

The question brought her up short. Ginny... what had happened with Ginny last night? If she remembered correctly, when Snape was heading toward the lake, Ginny had waited by the shore for her when everyone else had fled. Rather than listen to her friend's instruction to run with her, she froze under pressure and took the cowardly way out. That was the last time she'd seen her, and then she'd seen Snape...

"She didn't go back with the others last night?" Hermione's voice shook slightly, and she cleared it.

"No, we all assumed she was with you. No one has seen her all day." Ron said, looking a little worried himself.

Thoughts of the look on Snape's face as he'd faced Hagrid last night overwhelmed her. He'd looked ready to rip poor Hagrid's head off for getting in his way, for stopping him from getting what he wanted. Her.

What if while she was hiding underwater, Ginny had tried to stand against Snape on her behalf? What if she'd gotten in his way?

_No... No you're panicking again, Hermione, get a grip!_

"Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick." Harry reached over, grabbed Hermione's shoulders, and forced her to look at him. Even when she thought horrible things could've happened to her friend, Harry's emerald green eyes dazzled her, and she was hyperaware of the pressure of his hands steadying her. Something was seriously wrong with her. She'd crossed the threshold of shame and plummeted into self-loathing.

Clenching her fists and taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus.

"We need to look for her. Now."


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione felt strangely numb. She sat silently at the Gryffindor table with an untouched plate of food in front of her while those around her indulged in a hefty bounty and lighthearted conversation. They shouted. They laughed. They chewed much too loudly. They were completely oblivious to the tension building in Hermione as she sat stoically brooding.

Her eyes went back and forth from the open doors of the Great Hall to the faculty table where all but one seat was filled. She couldn't even take comfort in Severus Snape's conspicuous absence because of the implications of it. Where was he? Where was Ginny?

Ron and Harry had been relieved to hear that Hermione had 'found' Ginny up in the dorms. With envy she'd watched their shoulders sag and the smiles return to their faces. She'd tried to act normally herself, tried to shift her gaze to something other than Ginny's seat at the table currently occupied by Luna. But how could she act normally when she hadn't found Ginny and had blatantly lied to her friends? How many lies could she tell in such a short time?

She winced and rubbed her face. Her thoughts were spiraling again, but that was to be expected given the circumstance.

She'd lied to her friends, but what choice did she have? After searching campus from end to end and asking everyone they passed about her whereabouts, Harry and Ron had been ready to go to Dumbledore about it. She'd felt cornered. She'd felt threatened. She'd allowed herself to panic, and warm, buttery lies flowed freely and easily, a good news she wished she could deliver truthfully. Of course Ginny was up in her room fine and dandy! Why wouldn't she be? And how convenient was it that she'd already eaten and didn't need to come to dinner with them?

It took effort on Hermione's part not to slam her head on the table and avoid pacing back and forth erratically. She seemed to be digging herself deeper and deeper into this inescapable hole, a hole filled with her transgressions against the people she cared about. It was suffocating!

And what was her motivation? Who was she trying to protect by lying about Ginny? It certainly wasn't Ginny, so who was it? Snape? If he did have Ginny, the result could only be trouble for him. If Ginny got hurt, and if Snape got into trouble, it was completely her fault. Even knowing this, Hermione feared she was only thinking of herself and the trouble _she_ would get into.

Loud laughter at the Slytherin table briefly distracted her from her languishing. The Slytherins were a brutish lot, a quality they seemed to wholeheartedly embrace. Crabbe and Goyle were facing the Gryffindor table with their shirts lifted, exposing a disgusting mess of hair and gut, and they cupped the flabby skin at their chests jiggling it around mocking sensuality.

Those at Hermione's table and others looked away and grunted their distaste.

"What's the matter? You sluts like being naked don't you?"

"We quite enjoyed the show last night, ladies!"

Hermione couldn't tell who was speaking over the laughter from the other tables. Even some from her own table suppressed big, stupid grins. If Ginny saw the look on Ron's face, she'd smack him.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?" Luna whispered, oblivious to the outright bullying from the other tables. Her eyes were glued to Hermione as she read the expression on her face. Why on earth had she sat across from Luna? She knew Luna was the most perceptive one at the table, and apparently she actually paid attention to those around her.

"Fine." Hermione forced a small smile, her eyes flickering between Luna and the Slytherin table. She would've expected Draco Malfoy to be at the center of the taunts and discourse, but he was nowhere to be seen. That struck her as odd. She looked back at Luna, who seemed to be waiting for more from her. "I'm fine, really. Just not that hungry. That's all."

Luna nodded once and set her attention back to her plate. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me. I understand." She said around a mouthful of potatoes.

Hermione spared her only a moment's thought before her eyes flicked back up to the faculty table, and she met Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. She'd felt him staring without realizing it. Startled, she averted her eyes to her plate, but she could still feel his stare.

A smart girl would use the opportunity to approach the man and ask for a private meeting. A moral girl would have no choice but to unburden her conscience at the feet of a wizard who maybe could fix her mistakes. If she would just tell Dumbledore what she'd done and hand over the reigns to a much more capable person, at least he would protect her and protect Ginny. This part of the nightmare would be over, even if another part began.

She peeked back up at him through her long lashes knowing fully well that she looked suspicious. She couldn't broadcast her guilt more evidently if she stood up and held a sign. Dumbledore wasn't looking at her. He was talking to Professor McGonagall, but the corner of his eye twitched in her direction for the briefest second.

She felt as though she'd turned to stone inside.

_Tell him. Tell him everything._

Oh how she wanted to, but she could't! Something stopped her, something inexplicable. Ginny's words echoed in her mind.

_You cannot tell Dumbledore anything. You absolutely cannot_.

Her muscles twitched with the urge to get up and march to the faculty table, but she was rooted to her spot solidly. She feared she'd be stuck there until her will gave out.

_Go! Just go tell him!_

Hermione pushed her plate back and stood abruptly, capturing the attention of her friends.

"I'm going to head back. I've got a lot of studying to catch up on." She said and left the table without waiting for a response.

* * *

Ginny's bedroom was empty when Hermione cracked the door and peeked in. Most everyone was still at dinner, but they'd be making their way back to the tower soon. Time was of the essence. She passed the other beds and headed straight for Ginny's little corner of the room nearest the window.

She'd gone missing, and while Hermione's worst suspicions centered around Snape, it was possible she'd gone somewhere on her own. Ginny had been acting different lately, and it took her disappearing to raise Hermione's alarm bells about it. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, but if Ginny had gone somewhere, if something had happened to her, searching her room for clues seemed like a good place to start.

She hesitated at the foot of her crisply made bed for only a moment. She'd never known Ginny to be tidy, but her living space was immaculate, not a thing out of place. Aside from her aversion to sullying the nearly perfectly arranged space, she didn't relish the idea of violating her friend in this way.

But the pressure to find Ginny was overbearing, and she didn't have time for reexamining her diminishing code of ethics. She started with the stack of books on her nightstand, shaking the textbooks open for loose notes. Finding nothing but partially finished essays for class, she replaced the books and pulled out the three drawers, all clothes. She rifled through them and found nothing out of the ordinary.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed to find a sparklingly dust-free floor and nothing else. She sat up and ran her hands across the edge of the lumpy mattress before tucking them underneath and digging. Nothing. She shook the pillows, slipping a hand inside the pillowcases. Nothing. She checked underneath and behind the nightstand. Nothing. She lifted the knitted oval rug beside the bed. Nothing.

Finally, when she was sure she'd inspected every possible corner and crevice, she checked the obvious place to put potential clues, Ginny's magic trunk. She suspected if Ginny had left any sort of evidence of her whereabouts around her room, she'd be too smart to leave it there. Sure enough, after taking every magical item she owned out and carefully looking them over, she found her search fruitless.

Hermione sighed in frustration. It's what she'd expected, but she was back to having no plan for finding Ginny. She grabbed at her head digging her fingernails into her scalp. Dreadful thoughts of never finding her forced their way into her mind, but she couldn't break down yet. She owed it to Ginny to keep trying and trying harder. She couldn't give into despair when her friend could be in trouble.

She racked her brain for a new plan, feeling increasingly more anxious as she thought. An answer that she hadn't fully formed loomed in the back of her mind, but she shoved it back before it could panic her further. No, there had to be another way...

She glanced up at the window, the setting sun coloring the room a rusty orange. She heard voices drifting up from the common room as students were returning from dinner. She was running out of time to get out without raising suspicion.

She was on her feet dumping the objects back into the trunk and securing it when she heard a loud creak where she'd stepped. She looked down at the rug on which she stood and leaned her weight forward until she heard the wood protest again. Kicking the rug out of her way, she examined the old scuffed wood. Nothing looked amiss, but now that she was fully focused on one wood panel, she felt the slightest buzz of magic, like a distant, slow heartbeat.

She heard footsteps on the stairs heading her direction, and she reached for her wand, flicking the door closed and locked wordlessly. Hopefully no one would try to get in. She wasn't sure how she would explain being locked in a room that wasn't hers, and she didn't care.

She knelt next to the panel and reached for it. The hiss of burning flesh, a barely concealed cry, and singed fingertips lead her to once again withdraw her wand. The ward around the spot was powerful. It was evident that whoever placed it had something to hide, and Hermione's heart leapt in anticipation.

_"Protero Exponentia!" _She whispered and sent gold sparks into the wood. The ward dispersed in a visible smoky ring around her but did not dissipate. She tried the spell again more forcefully, but the ring only drew closer to her. Everywhere the smoke touched her skin tingled and burned unpleasantly but bearably. Surely she had seconds until the ward returned entirely and impenetrably.

She dug her fingernails into the edge of the panel, grimacing at the white hot pain of burning skin.

"Argh!" She gasped as the pain became too much, and she jerked her hands back. The edge of the panel had budged just enough for her to get a firm grip, and with resolve, she bunched her robes over her fingers and wrenched the stubborn piece up and out of the way. She smiled with triumph, but the smoke was wrapping around her, penetrating her open orifices and filling her lungs.

She coughed violently to expel it, swatting the burning ward away to no avail. She had to get away from there before she burned from the inside out.

Covering her face, she peered over the hole in the floor. There were a few overstuffed stationery envelopes and a little violet velvet drawstring bag. She reached in, scooped up the items, and crawled toward the back wall as far from the hole as she could get in the small space. The smoke drew closer and closer to the hole until it seeped back into the wood.

Hermione sighed in relief and immediately assessed her finds. The velvet bag caught her eye first, so she pulled the strings and reached inside, pulling out three glass vials of bright blue liquid. It was thin, watery, and left a slimy looking residue on the glass. She puzzled over the familiar looking potion until she recognized it. Birth control potion.

Hermione remembered catching Madame Pomfrey handing it out discreetly to girls in the hospital wing. Wizard society wasn't as progressive as muggle society. Such matters were not spoken about (or condoned) openly at Hogwarts, but of course the practical needs of students came first to the medically-minded witch.

But what would Ginny need with such things, and why did she feel the need to conceal it with harsh wards? Hermione looked down at the vials in her lap, leaning closer to be sure she'd seen it right. One wasn't the same shade of blue as the other two. In fact, it was green tinged, and chunkier than the other two. That one wasn't birth control potion... had she tried making one herself and failed? But why would she have done that? Why did she have it in the first place?

Hermione grabbed the first envelope and pulled out folded crinkled pieces of parchment of various lengths. She unfolded the first one she grabbed and was immediately struck by how beautiful the handwriting was. It was written in shimmery gold ink, and with its perfect curves, strokes, and flourishes, it was obvious the writer had a steady hand. The little crumpled note could be hung in a museum with other artwork. The line work was so intricate that it took a moment for her to make out the words.

_To My Love,_

_I find myself unable to sleep with you on my mind. You tell me that you think of me more than I could ever think of you. I have serious doubts. You are my every thought. Everything I do, I do with you at the center. The word worship comes to mind, but even that does not cover how I feel about you. I am in awe of your dedication and of your ability to conquer obstacles that would bring men twice your age to their knees. You are strong. Strong enough for the both of us. _

_Your Most Devoted_

Hermione gripped the paper tightly, absorbing every word. Ginny was hiding love letters? Staring at the beautiful markings made the corners of her lips turn upward. Harry could never have written this beautifully to Ginny even if he had a mind to. She'd checked over enough of his essays to know his handwriting was chicken scratch. So Ginny had some other lover that she told no one about?

Hermione's smug little smile melted away as she realized where her thoughts were. Her best friend was missing, and she was congratulating herself for maybe still having a chance to be with Harry? What was _wrong_ with her?

With a rough shake of her head, she folded the note and grabbed the next one.

_Dearest Ginny,_

_I know that when last we spoke, I was unkind to you. Please know that the words I said could not be further from the truth. You know how much I adore you, and I would not expect you to question it. I continue to draw strength from you even when you tell me you feel weak. My love and loyalty remains with you always._

She flipped through the stack quickly, searching for a signature, an identity to pin to this mystery lover, but they seemed to be intentionally left to the imagination. Hermione found it odd that Ginny would go to such trouble to hide love letters. What could possibly be the harm in someone reading them? Why did Ginny feel she couldn't tell her about it?

Hermione looked at the velvet bag with the potion vials and frowned. She hadn't been the most forthcoming with her own romantic conquests, so she couldn't in all fairness expect Ginny to be.

She pulled notes from the second and third envelopes, having no more patience for being orderly. She heard feet running through the hallway past the room, but she didn't allow it to distract her.

_My Darling,_

_It's been too long since we've had a proper meeting. You're starving me. The anticipation of getting you alone, feasting on your body, and making you cum while you scream my name -_

Hermione stopped reading and folded that particular note an extra time. She shouldn't be reading these things. They were so personal! Was reading them and disrupting Ginny's privacy really going to help her find the girl? She really shouldn't...

She peeked at the next few notes warily.

_To the Light of My Life,_

_We need to meet. There is still thinking to be done, and your opinion means a great deal to me, but I urge you to reconsider. Now is not the time for an admission. The only way I can be with you now is in secret, as much as that pains us both. Let us talk about it before you make a decision. I'll be waiting for you at the foot of the steps in the dungeons._

The next few were simple requests to meet - some with unmentionable descriptions of what would be 'done' to Ginny when the two met. She opened the last one, both relieved and disappointed that she'd finished the pile. The gnawing feeling she'd shut down earlier had her shaking as she held the parchment.

_My Lovely Girl,_

_I fear we may have to find a different meeting place. The walls of this school have eyes, and we are drawing unwanted attention. I feel as though the atmosphere is closing in around us. Do you feel it too? Meet me tonight at the north end of the dungeons, and do not forget to bring what we spoke about. I have got a surprise for you, so do not keep me waiting._

_Yours Forever_

Hermione folded the paper and returned the pile to their envelopes, trying to avoid her thoughts, but she couldn't avoid them forever. The idea had occurred to her earlier, however distantly, and she'd shut it out dismayed by the mere thought. Reading Ginny's letters only solidified the idea into something she must do.

She knew very well that she, Ron, and Harry hadn't searched the _entire _campus for Ginny.

If Snape had Ginny, she could be locked away in the dungeons somewhere screaming for help with no one to hear her. No one knew about Snape's 'affliction' except Hermione. No one would suspect him of any wrongdoing except Hermione. And now there was the possibility that an unknown lover had her down in the dungeons, of her own free will or otherwise. Either way, Hermione had to know. She had to find her, and if she wasn't going to go to Dumbledore...

She was going to have to go down into the dungeons herself and look for her.

* * *

Snape sat at his desk, leaning casually in his seat and chewing lightly on the skin of his index finger in thought. His mind was the clearest it had been in the last 36 hours thanks to several consecutive doses of clarity potion. He was sure to pay for it later in the form of nasty side effects, but for the moment, he was taking advantage of his relative clarity. He needed to fulfill Dumbledore's request in a timely fashion, and he'd put it off long enough already.

He sat across from Draco Malfoy, the boy's demeanor obstinate and snide.

"I don't know what you're expecting to gain from questioning me. I haven't done anything." Draco sat calmly back in his seat, maintaining a perfect pokerface. Snape set his deep, contemplative eyes firmly on him.

"Perhaps I'll restate my objective. I know what you're up to, and I'm seeking an admission. You're either going to give it to me or suffer the consequences." It was a tactic he often employed with students, though it usually only worked with the more skittish. Draco had never been one to cower to his intimidation.

All it served to do was bring a tight, smug smile to his face. "What are you going to do, _professor?_" His lip raised over his teeth a bit as he said the word. "Give me detention? Go ahead." Draco folded his arms, waiting for his challenge to be met. Snape watched him for anything that would give his occupation away.

As his black eyes held the boy's light gray ones, He pushed his consciousness forward and felt at the edges of Draco's shifty thoughts. The moment he'd felt the tinge of unease radiating from his mental state, the connection dropped like water spilling from a cup. Snape combed through the residual wisps of stolen thought hoping to find what he was looking for, but it slipped through his grasp without an answer.

Draco's calm facade melted away as he glared with hatred at Snape. "Bet you regret suggesting I learn Occlumency now." He said. "But, of course, I didn't do it because you suggested it. I'm probably better at it than you are by now." He shrugged as though his skill was nothing to be noticed.

Snape kept his face carefully expressionless, his eyes roaming over the boy. His arms were covered by his school robes, but the frayed edge of a bandage peeked through the hole of his left sleeve.

"Your arm should be fully healed by now. Is it not?" Snape said rubbing his own forearm where the dark mark was etched permanently into his skin.

Draco tensed the slightest bit, but it did not escape Snape's notice.

"We aren't talking about that."

"If it's not healing properly-"

"I don't need your help!"

"I wasn't going to offer it." Snape reached forward and gripped Draco's wrist before he could stop him. He tried to yank it back, but Snape's grip was iron-tight and disrupting the sensitive flesh of his wound. Snape pushed the sleeve of Draco's robe up and exposed the old, soiled bandage. Peeling it back slowly, his nose wrinkled at the smell of infection. The diseased skin was an angry pink color, crusted, and swollen around the edges of the inked mark.

"Let go of me!" Draco shouted but remained motionless. His face was a sickly green, and he blinked a few times to steady himself.

"I was going to say if the mark isn't healing properly, it's usually a sign that the recipient of the mark is..." Snape narrowed his eyes at the squeamish boy. "Not entirely loyal to the cause."

"Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know that if the Dark Lord gets a whiff of that, you'll experience a humbling at his unforgiving hands."

A heavy silence passed between them. Draco was starting to lose his hold on himself. Snape glimpsed his deep emotional toil with unease.

"Why don't you tell me whatever it is you've gotten yourself into, and I will help you."

Draco scoffed and found the strength to reclaim his arm. "Do you think I'm stupid? You whisper everything right into the Dark Lord's ear! Go on and tell him my mark isn't healed. I know you can't wait." He turned his nose up haughtily. "You were always jealous of my father. Maybe throwing his son under the bus will bring you some sick pleasure."

Snape inhaled slowly, suppressing his anger in favor of calm rationality. "You know very well that I bear no ill will toward you or your family. What is said between us stays between us. You have my word. Now, tell me, what exactly is it that you have to hide from the Dark Lord?"

Draco's face was hard and wrinkled with dislike as he looked at Snape, but even so, he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He crossed his leg over the other, shifted, tried the other side, and then finally stood restlessly.

"You were there right beside him when he told me what I had to do!"

"Yes, that was before he realized that you were too great an asset to risk with a fruitless mission." Said Snape. He didn't mention the fact that Draco was a tool to bend Lucius to Voldemort's will. "Surely you're not still after Dumbledore." Snape said with slightly raised eyebrows.

"No. He gave me an ultimatum."

Snape was quiet as his thoughts raced. Dumbledore must not know as much as Snape had suspected he did about Draco Malfoy's activities. By the light way he'd spoken about it, it seemed the old wizard suspected silly teenage antics. The possibility of more nefarious happenings unbeknownst to the most powerful wizard in the castle increased his apprehension.

"Are you going to ask me what the ultimatum is, or are you just going to stare at me all night?" Draco asked, his tone biting.

Snape continued to stare unaffected.

"Think about it. Besides Dumbledore's death, what does the Dark Lord want more than anything?" Draco's tone was disrespectful as though he was talking to an imbecile, but Snape didn't take notice, still trying to penetrate his Occlumency defenses.

As he took in the boy's words, his eyes sharpened with realization. "You're going after Potter. But you must know that your attempts will fail. The boy is under constant surveillance. Dumbledore himself watches him on a nearly hourly basis."

"I know, but I have a plan."

"No plan is going to work-"

"I KNOW!" Draco growled. "I know it's a long shot, but what choice do I have? He's got my family. You don't understand! I have a future, people that care about me, people depending on me. None of this makes any difference to you!" He spit furiously.

Snape ignored the jab and continued his grab for information. "What is your plan? Maybe I can be of assistance-"

"You can't help me! Weren't you listening? _Nobody_ can help me!" Tears of shame brimmed and twinkled in his eyes. He closed them and whirled around on his heels heading for the door.

"Get back here! We aren't finished!" Snape's protests fell on deaf ears as Draco flung the door to his office open and bounded around the corner.

"Wait!" He grabbed the first healing potion he spotted along his shelves and ran for the door. "At least take this for your arm!" He called, but Draco's strides didn't slow as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

Snape thought about following after him and forcing him back to his office, but he didn't see the benefit. The boy was in no state to speak to him or anyone else about his troubles. He'd have to ambush him in the common room later in the week and get him alone to finish their discussion. Until then, he'd have to speak to Dumbledore about it. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Draco Malfoy was in quite the conundrum, one that didn't seem to have a positive solution. Regardless, he couldn't stand by while the boy attempted to abduct Harry Potter, no matter how unlikely his chances of success were. He had a sour feeling that Dumbledore would have him on the case and back in Voldemort's congress before he was due.

As he turned, a dreadfully familiar sensation took him off guard. The sweet smell of Hermione Granger hit him hard before he even saw her peeking out from behind a column next to him. Her wide brown eyes met his, and all thoughts of Lord Voldemort, Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy slipped his mind. There was nothing and no one else in the world except for the bushy-haired girl before him and his fiery desire for her.

He stilled, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"You might as well come out, Miss Granger." He said in a deep, commanding tone. He turned to face her, set fiery, molten black eyes on her, and gestured toward the open door with a graceful wave of his arm. "In my office. Please."


End file.
